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diff --git a/76800-h/76800-h.htm b/76800-h/76800-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..727ed36 --- /dev/null +++ b/76800-h/76800-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9902 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + + <title> + Bases Full! | Project Gutenberg + </title> + + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + + <style> + +/* DACSoft styles */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/* General headers */ +h1 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +/* Chapter headers */ +h2 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + margin: .75em 0; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +/* Indented paragraph */ +p { + margin-top: .51em; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +/* Unindented paragraph */ +.noi {text-indent: 0em;} + +/* Centered unindented paragraph */ +.noic { + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Drop caps */ +p.cap {text-indent: 0em;} + +p.cap:first-letter { + float: left; + padding-right: 3px; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 83%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker p.cap:first-letter { + float: left; + padding-right: 3px; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 83%; +} + +/* Non-standard paragraph margins */ +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +.pad4 { + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 4em; +} + +/* Horizontal rules */ +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb { + width: 35%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: 32.5%; + margin-right: 32.5%; +} + +hr.chap { + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +@media print { + hr.chap { + display: none; + visibility: hidden; + } +} + +hr.r30 { + width: 30%; + margin-left: 35%; + margin-right: 35%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +/* Lists */ +ul {list-style-type: none;} + +li { + text-indent: 0em; + padding-left: 0em; +} + +/* Tables */ +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td { + padding: .25em; +} + +th { + padding: .25em; + font-weight: normal; +} + +/* Table cell alignments */ +.tdl { + text-align: left; +} + +.tdrb { + text-align: right; + vertical-align: bottom; +} + +.tdrt { + text-align: right; + padding-right: 0.75em; + vertical-align: top; +} + +.pr { + padding-right: .5em; +} + +/* Physical book page and line numbers */ +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 3%; +/* left: 92%; */ + font-size: x-small; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-align: right; + color: gray; +} /* page numbers */ + +/* Blockquotes */ +.blockquot { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +/* Text appearance */ +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Small fonts and lowercase small-caps */ +.smfont { + font-size: .8em; +} + +.smfontr { + font-size: .75em; + text-align: right; +} + +/* Illustration caption */ +figcaption { + font-size: .75em; + font-weight: bold; +} + +/* Images */ +img { + max-width: 100%; /* no image to be wider than screen or containing div */ + height:auto; /* keep height in proportion to width */ +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 90%; /* div no wider than screen, even when screen is narrow */ +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowe6 {width: 6em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.tnote { + background-color: #E6E6FA; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 0.5em; +} + +.tntitle { + font-size: 1.25em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Title page borders and content. */ +.title { + font-size: 1.75em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.halftitle { + font-size: 1.5em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.author { + font-size: 1.25em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.works { + font-size: .75em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Advertisement formatting. */ +.adpage { + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .adpage { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.adtitle { + font-size: 1.35em; + font-weight: bold; + clear: both; +} + +.adauthor { + font-size: 1.25em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Hanging indent. */ +.hang { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 3em; +} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76800 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop" id="cover_sm"> + <img class="x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/cover_sm.jpg" alt="book cover" title="book cover"> +</figure> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="halftitle">BASES FULL!</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="noi author">By RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> + +<hr class="r30"> + +<div class="adpage"> + +<p class="noic"><i>Yardley Hall Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">FOURTH DOWN</li> +<li class="hang">FORWARD PASS</li> +<li class="hang">DOUBLE PLAY</li> +<li class="hang">WINNING HIS Y</li> +<li class="hang">GUARDING THE GOAL</li> +<li class="hang">FOR YARDLEY</li> +<li class="hang">AROUND THE END</li> +<li class="hang">CHANGE SIGNALS</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Purple Pennant Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">THE LUCKY SEVENTH</li> +<li class="hang">THE SECRET PLAY</li> +<li class="hang">THE PURPLE PENNANT</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Hilton Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">THE HALF-BACK</li> +<li class="hang">FOR THE HONOR OF THE SCHOOL</li> +<li class="hang">CAPTAIN OF THE CREW</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Erskine Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">BEHIND THE LINE</li> +<li class="hang">WEATHERBY’S INNING</li> +<li class="hang">ON YOUR MARK</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>The “Big Four” Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">FOUR IN CAMP</li> +<li class="hang">FOUR AFOOT</li> +<li class="hang">FOUR AFLOAT</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>The Grafton Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">RIVALS FOR THE TEAM</li> +<li class="hang">HITTING THE LINE</li> +<li class="hang">WINNING HIS GAME</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>North Bank Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">THREE BASE BENSON</li> +<li class="hang">KICK FORMATION</li> +<li class="hang">COXSWAIN OF THE EIGHT</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Wyndham Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">THE FIGHTING SCRUB</li> +<li class="hang">BASES FULL</li> +<li class="hang">HOLD ’EM, WYNDHAM!</li> +</ul> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Books Not In Series</i></p> + +<ul> +<li class="hang">THE LOST DIRIGIBLE</li> +<li class="hang">FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS</li> +<li class="hang">KEEPING HIS COURSE</li> +<li class="hang">THE BROTHER OF A HERO</li> +<li class="hang">FINKLER’S FIELD</li> +<li class="hang">DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME</li> +<li class="hang">THE ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON</li> +<li class="hang">FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM</li> +<li class="hang">UNDER THE YANKEE ENSIGN</li> +<li class="hang">BENTON’S VENTURE</li> +<li class="hang">THE JUNIOR TROPHY</li> +<li class="hang">THE NEW BOY AT HILLTOP</li> +<li class="hang">THE SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL</li> +<li class="hang">THE PLAY THAT WON</li> +<li class="hang">INFIELD RIVALS</li> +<li class="hang">FOLLOW THE BALL</li> +</ul> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter" id="i_frontispiece"> + <img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" title=""> + <figcaption> + <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_262">JEFF WOUND UP AND PITCHED</a></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1 class="nobreak">BASES FULL!</h1> +<p class="p2 noic">BY</p> + +<p class="noi author">RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> + +<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “THE FIGHTING SCRUB,” “INFIELD RIVALS,” ETC.</p> + +<div class="pad4"> +<figure class="figcenter" id="logo"> + <img class="illowe6" src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo"> +</figure> +</div> + +<p class="noic adauthor">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br> +NEW YORK :: 1925 :: LONDON</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="noic">COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY</p> + +<p class="noic adauthor">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> + +<p class="p6 noi works">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table> +<colgroup> + <col style="width: 20%;"> + <col style="width: 70%;"> + <col style="width: 10%;"> +</colgroup> +<tr> + <th class="pr smfontr"></th> + <th class="tdl"></th> + <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">I.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Winning Goal</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">II.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Triumvirate</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">11</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">III.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Candidates for the Nine</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">24</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Mr. Bingham Entertains</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">36</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">V.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Tom Confides</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">48</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Psychology</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">59</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">A Stranger Looks On</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">72</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Vacation Visits</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">85</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">“The Old Will Power”</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">99</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">X.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">“Fight! Fight!”</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">112</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Tom Hits a “Jolly Crash”</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">122</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The Battling Flivver</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">134</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Tom Pays a Call</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">146</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Inside Stuff</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">158</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Wattles is Careless</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">168</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">A Double Defeat</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Loring Goes Scouting</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">190</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Wyndham Wins</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">204</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Walking Papers</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">214</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Clif Gets an Error</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">232</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Wattles Intervenes</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">243</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">The Final Game</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">254</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Bases Full!</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">262</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> + +<p class="noi title">BASES FULL!</p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I"> + CHAPTER I + <br> + <small>THE WINNING GOAL</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap"><em>“Shoot! Shoot!”</em></p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Shoot! Shoot!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It was the last period and only a few minutes remained. +The score was still a tie at 6 to 6. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>the center slid it back to him, slipped it craftily past +the goal keeper’s feet with a mere flick of his stick.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Sitting on the bench, sweatered and blanketed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Left wing, Bingham,” said the coach. “Watch +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>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 <em>try</em> +harder!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>beside him, very free with his stick, but Clif only +blinked when the blows met his shin guards, and +pulled the puck toward him.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II"> + CHAPTER II + <br> + <small>THE TRIUMVIRATE</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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:</p> + +<p>“Clifton Cobb Bingham.”</p> + +<p>“Here!”</p> + +<p>“Loring Deane.”</p> + +<p>“Here!”</p> + +<p>“Thomas Ackerman Kemble.”</p> + +<p>“Uh-huh!”</p> + +<p>But there wasn’t any secretary. Nor any other +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s have it a club,” suggested Clif. “The East +Hall Literary and Recreation Club.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to know what’s literary about it,” Tom +objected.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that stand for?” asked Tom suspiciously. +“Don’t Kome Back or—”</p> + +<p>“Those are our initials, dumb-bell.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Well, that sounds all right, but—”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Great! It sounds important,” said Tom. +“Only, before I accept membership I want to ask +one simple question. Are there any dues?”</p> + +<p>“No dues, no initiation fee! A strictly fraternal, +non-partisan, offensive and defensive alliance! +‘One for all and all for one!’”</p> + +<p>“That’s in <cite>The Three Muskeneers</cite>,” said Tom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span></p> + +<p>“The Three—<em>what</em>?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>Tom repeated the information. “You know, the +story about the three guys—only there were four of +’em—who—”</p> + +<p>“<cite>The Three Guardsmen</cite>,” interrupted Loring +gravely.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve always heard it called <cite>The Three +Muskeneers</cite>. A fellow named Dumas wrote it. +That the same one?”</p> + +<p>“Quite,” said Loring, and Clif said: “I like your +title better, though, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Sure it isn’t ‘<em>Musketeers</em>’ instead of ‘<em>Muskeneers</em>’?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>and stand shoulder to shoulder against a +common enemy, still the spirit was there.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“What,” inquired Clif, smiling, “was the subject +of Mr. Wyatt’s talk?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you like his stuff?” asked Clif maliciously. +“Why, I’m getting an awful kick out of it!”</p> + +<p>Tom said “Humph!” disgustedly and Loring +chuckled. “Tom’s what you might call a Modernist,” +said the latter. “He prefers his literature fresh, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>like his rolls. He finds no pleasure in stale bread.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Probably got paid by the word,” suggested Clif.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you study your English Lit,” asked +Clif, “and not have to listen to Mr. Wyatt’s +homilies?”</p> + +<p>“Study! Heck, I do study! I read all the stuff +he tells us to, but it doesn’t <em>mean</em> anything. I had +a hunch the first time I set eyes on that chap that +I wasn’t going to like him.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a whopper,” said Clif. “You do like +him, Tom. What you don’t like is his line.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you take my advice, Tom, and get cozy +with Alick before you try baseball. Remember what +happened last November!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span></p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“The president?” asked Loring, puzzled.</p> + +<p>“He’s got the name wrong,” laughed Clif. +“Coleridge, Tom, and not Coolidge wrote <cite>The +Ancient Mariner</cite>.”</p> + +<p>“Coleridge? Well, I guess it’s the same name, +only spelled differently.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <cite>Sketch Book</cite> twaddle by Irving? Why didn’t +he stick to acting instead of—”</p> + +<p>“Tom, you’ll be the death of me yet!” gasped Clif.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span></p> + +<p>When he had stopped laughing Loring said: +“Speaking of baseball, doesn’t practice start this +week?”</p> + +<p>“Thursday,” agreed Clif.</p> + +<p>“Are you going out?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. So is Tom.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get in wrong,” advised Clif cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Huh, that’s easy enough to say!”</p> + +<p>“You’d better,” said Loring. “Clif can’t be the +whole team, you know.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Modest, shrinking little violet, isn’t he?” asked +Clif of Loring. “Hates himself to death, eh?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p> + +<p>“I’ve heard,” remarked Loring, “that ‘Steve’ is +a pretty good coach.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Thought you said you didn’t know,” Clif +chuckled.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But you’re not going to try—” began Loring +incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Him?” jeered Tom. “He couldn’t pitch down +Oak Street without breaking a window!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Is that so? Well, you just wait and see. +Listen—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III"> + CHAPTER III + <br> + <small>CANDIDATES FOR THE NINE</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>Wattles was “a scream and a bully sort.” As to +that the reader may judge for himself later.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Baseball, Mr. Loring. Right, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I suppose you don’t know much about that +game, do you, Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“I am not, Mr. Loring, what you might call well +informed on the subject. I have, though, witnessed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>several contests of professional baseball and +observed it closely, and while there are numerous +points—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“We, sir?” asked Wattles with a trace of surprise.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly,” agreed Wattles. “A most interesting +pastime, I’ve no doubt, if one possesses a +thorough knowledge of the intricacies.”</p> + +<p>“Sure! Don’t forget those books from the +library.”</p> + +<p>Wattles looked almost pained as he pushed the +chair to its customary location at one side of the +doorway and retired. Wattles never forgot.</p> + +<p>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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connover said nothing particularly new nor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“We have arranged a schedule for this spring that +is two games longer than last year’s,” Mr. Connover +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“—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!”</p> + +<p>That called for applause and it was forthcoming. +Hurry didn’t look at first glance like a captain of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Meaning that I’ll only make the second, eh?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What of it?” asked Tom, plumping himself into +a chair.</p> + +<p>“What of it? Well, what chance have a couple of +dunderheads like you and me got, I’d like to know.”</p> + +<p>“Dunderhead yourself,” responded Tom, unruffled. +“Dunderhead, me no dunderhead, young +feller. Listen. I’m an experienced ball player. I +was even a captain once.”</p> + +<p>“Who else was on the team?” laughed Clif. +“Your old nurse?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>strike out fellows weighing twenty pounds less than +he did!”</p> + +<p>“What’s weight got to do with it?” asked Clif, +puzzled.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“And what did you play on the ‘Morristown +Giants’?”</p> + +<p>“Wrong. We were the ‘Red Sox.’ I played +catcher sometimes, and sometimes I played third +base and sometimes—”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Very high-minded,” said Clif approvingly. +“And, speaking of ranks, I’ll bet you’ll be ranker +than any.”</p> + +<p>“Say, joking aside, Clif, we <em>have</em> got rather a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Brakes!” said Clif rudely.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV"> + CHAPTER IV + <br> + <small>MR. BINGHAM ENTERTAINS</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">Well, that first fortnight of work for the +baseball candidates <em>was</em> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a Cooper on the scrub team,” answered +Clif. “Jack Cooper. Maybe his father. Doesn’t +look like Jack much, though.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose I do,” said Clif. “I favor mother +more, don’t I?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“’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!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span></p> + +<p>Well, Mr. Bingham <em>was</em> 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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>Bingham arose with a sigh and dropped the cigar +over the railing.</p> + +<p>“Well, boys, let’s go,” he said. “What part of +the world do you want to see to-day?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V"> + CHAPTER V + <br> + <small>TOM CONFIDES</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>below, in the shrubbery, sparrows chirped in noisy +argument.</p> + +<p>“Fathers,” observed Tom after a moment, “are a +great institution, aren’t they?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Clif. “But how +do you mean?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Tom soberly. “I don’t blame you. +I did act sort of rotten.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span></p> + +<p>“Let’s light up and forget it,” offered Clif cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Jealous!” echoed Clif.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Never had—” gasped Clif.</p> + +<p>“None that I can remember,” said Tom gloomily. +“He—went away when I was five years old.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>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—”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“He never came back?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>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—”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Heck, let’s have some light,” he exclaimed. +“This is enough to give a fellow the willies!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>Tusks took over twenty-four candidates from +Coach Connover, conducted them to the second-team +diamond, looked them over in thoughtful, if smiling, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span></p> + +<p>That ended the rally and the game, giving Wyndham +the contest, 13 to 11.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI"> + CHAPTER VI + <br> + <small>PSYCHOLOGY</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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 <em>right</em> 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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>Learn to let the ‘teasers’ alone and concentrate on the +good ones. Hit with your eyes!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“I noticed, though,” remarked Loring, “that you +generally hit flies, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hit! And that’s more than I can do +now.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get onto it,” soothed Clif. “It takes +time.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Back numbers!” snorted Tom. “Now this guy +Clouter Hearn—”</p> + +<p>“All right,” agreed Loring imperturbably, “let’s +take some who aren’t. Sisler or Speaker, for example—”</p> + +<p>“But, heck, I don’t know how those fellows bat,” +protested Tom, “and you don’t either. You say—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> + +<p>“But I do know,” answered Loring, smilingly. “I +never saw them play, but I’ve got pictures of them +at bat.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“The weak point about Tusks,” remarked Clif regretfully, +“is that he never saw Clouter Hearn +play!”</p> + +<p>“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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Of which I’m one,” said Clif sadly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Sounds fair enough,” said Tom, “but just how +are we going to do it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t quite know—yet,” confessed Loring, +“but I believe there’s a way. Do you know +anything about psychology?”</p> + +<p>“Not much. I had one a couple of years ago, but +I ran it against an ice-wagon.”</p> + +<p>“Cut out the comedy,” said Clif severely. “Loring’s +got a scheme. Let’s hear it.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>help you. That makes three of us, all—all concentrating +on one purpose, one result, doesn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Your arithmetic is perfect,” said Tom gravely.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“You mean,” asked Clif, “that we are to will ourselves +onto the second team?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Every day in every play I’m getting—”</p> + +<p>“Shut up, Tom!” said Clif. “While we’re trying +to make the team we’re to keep telling ourselves that +we’re <em>going</em> to. Is that it, Loring?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Y-yes,” assented Clif. “I see what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span></p> + +<p>“Nothing, but they just won’t think of it. You +hadn’t, had you?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll say I hadn’t! Heck, I never took much stock +in this mental suggestion stuff, Loring. It always +sounds nutty to me.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, but this thing of ‘willing’ something +to happen, now; that’s different from just +<em>wanting</em> it to, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“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, <em>hard</em>: ‘I’m going to do it! I’m going +over! This time I’m going to <em>make</em> 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 <em>think</em> he +was going to do it, if he didn’t use his will as well +as his body, he never would do it!”</p> + +<p>“Keno!” said Tom. “I get you, old scout. Like +when Clif made that last goal in the hockey game +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>awhile back. I’ll bet it was just his <em>will</em> that shot +that puck in, for, goodness knows, he didn’t have +any command over the rest of him!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“Such as how?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span></p> + +<p>“It might be if Steve didn’t have a whole lot more +to say than the whole bunch of us!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<em>will</em> is just as strong as his is!”</p> + +<p>“Is it?” asked Tom startledly. “What do you +know about that?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want just <em>any</em> position,” interrupted +Tom anxiously; “I want to play second base!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span></p> + +<p>“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—’”</p> + +<p>“All for fun,” said the irrepressible Tom.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII"> + CHAPTER VII + <br> + <small>A STRANGER LOOKS ON</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why won’t he let me hit the way I want +to? Heck, if I ever coach a baseball team—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But I forget!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“There! That’s just it! You had the wrong +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>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 <em>know</em>!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>Loring attended practice nearly every day. With +the excellent Wattles as chauffeur, the chair was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>Presently the second was called across to the other +field, and Wattles folded up the seat which he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Did you notice the man sitting near us, Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Wattles.</p> + +<p>“Do you know who he is?”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Loring, I can’t say that I do.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t say? Well, geewhillikins, Wattles, +you either know him or you don’t know him! Which +is it?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“You have? Where?”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it, Mr. Loring. I can’t seem to recall +the occasion.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve probably seen him around here then.”</p> + +<p>“Quite likely, sir,” agreed Wattles obligingly.</p> + +<p>“Well, but—but do you think you did see him +here? Or was it somewheres else?”</p> + +<p>“I fancy it might have been somewheres else, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“Wattles, you certainly are the prize package!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>The subject of this discourse chose a seat high in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>Wattles shook his head. “No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Still think you’ve seen him before, though?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“What I like especially in you, Wattles,” said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>Wattles merely coughed.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“That’s Mr. Cooper,” said Clif. “Jack Cooper’s +father. You know Jack.”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“Must be,” was the answer. “I saw him dining +at the Inn more than a week ago.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Further pursuit of the subject was prevented by +their arrival at the theater, but that evening, recalling +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Might be! Hang it, Wattles, I’m telling you he +is.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII"> + CHAPTER VIII + <br> + <small>VACATION VISITS</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Yes.” Clif was patient with him. “He’s over +there talking to Loring Deane. Can’t you see him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Jack looked again. Then he turned a +puzzled regard on Clif. “That’s my father over +there, is it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, isn’t it?” asked Clif in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Don’t recognize him, Clif.” Jack was grinning +broadly. “But then he’s gone and lost about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>sixty pounds, if it is he, and it’s made a terrible +difference in him!”</p> + +<p>“You mean Mr. Cooper isn’t—isn’t your father?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, Mr. Cooper’s my father, but I never saw +that wampus before in my life! Go on and bat.”</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Jack sought Clif to ask: +“Say, how’d you get it into your bean that that +guy was my father?”</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“I’d like you to see my old man,” laughed Jack. +“Just for the fun of it. He weighs close to two +hundred, Clif.”</p> + +<p>“That’s mighty funny,” muttered the other. He +was thinking of his mistake, but Jack misunderstood.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see anything very funny in it,” he answered. +“He takes after me.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“My son’s room?” repeated the other, almost +startedly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Loring uncertainly. “I thought—some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>one said— Aren’t you Jack Cooper’s father, +sir?”</p> + +<p>The gentleman shook his head. “Really, no,” +he answered. “Who, if you don’t mind, is Jack +Cooper?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“But you are Mr. Cooper, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I remember. Bingham is the boy who was at +the helm that day?”</p> + +<p>“The helm? Oh, no, sir, that was Tom Kemble. +Clif was the other.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I recognized them both here a bit ago. +Isn’t that Kemble standing by the cage thing?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, and Clif Bingham’s playing out in the +field; the middle one of the three.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Not so many. Golf, of course, and polo. I’ve +played that a goodish bit.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no. Most of my playing has been over in +India and around there. I’m really not much good +at it.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>“No, I never played football, Deane. Your name +is Deane, I think?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, but—I’m generally called Loring by +my friends,” said the boy a little shyly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“During the War?” asked Loring.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the Tommies played quite a bit, and so did +the Yanks. Not the same game, though.”</p> + +<p>“You were in the War, weren’t you, sir?”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>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.</p> + +<p>Loring rather unjustly blamed Wattles. “Look +here,” he charged, “you were beastly uncivil, Wattles, +and I don’t like it.”</p> + +<p>“But I never said a word, Mr. Loring,” Wattles +protested.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied Wattles firmly. “Asking your +pardon, Mr. Loring, I am perfectly certain that I +have encountered the gentleman previously.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span></p> + +<p>“Where, then? And what of it? It wasn’t in +prison, was it?”</p> + +<p>“I have never been in prison, Mr. Loring,” stated +Wattles with hurt dignity.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>Presently, trundling across the grass, Loring said: +“Sorry I spoke crossly, Wattles.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” replied Wattles. “I regret +having given offense, Mr. Loring.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t, really,” laughed the boy. “It was +just my rotten temper.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bingham arrived an hour later, and Clif and +Tom piled their bags into the back of the old blue +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Clif declared that the room was very jolly and +that everything was perfectly corking, but secretly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>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. <em>He</em> won’t see me, +that’s a cinch! I’ll go right from Freeburg to New +York and get into the Navy!”</p> + +<p>“The Navy won’t take you without his assent, +Tom. You’re only sixteen.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be seventeen next month, won’t I? Well, +then! And whose money is it, anyhow? You’d +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>think, the way he goes on, he was paying for my +schooling and everything! I’ll bet he gets his share, +the old grafter!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t call names,” said Clif quietly. “As Cocky +used to tell us last fall, ‘Fight, but keep your mouth +closed!’”</p> + +<p>Tom eventually calmed down and retired for the +night in fair temper, but the incident didn’t increase +Clif’s pleasure in the visit.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX"> + CHAPTER IX + <br> + <small>“THE OLD WILL POWER”</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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?”</p> + +<p>Clif shook his head, while Tom said: “Sounds +like a good ticket. I’ll vote for ’em. Who are +they?”</p> + +<p>Loring, though, was too much in earnest to appreciate +persiflage. “Don’t you read the papers?” +he demanded. “The <cite>Times</cite> had it yesterday morning.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean Stu Evans?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Gosh!” said Tom. “Cox is the fellow with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>long neck and whitish hair, isn’t he? Say, that’s +too bad.”</p> + +<p>“Have they come back?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Too bad,” said Tom again, but he said it more +slowly, and an expression of uneasiness came into +his face.</p> + +<p>“That surely ought to put you on second,” said +Clif.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“But, Great Scott—” began Clif.</p> + +<p>“If it’s going to get fellows into trouble I’m +through with it,” declared Tom emphatically.</p> + +<p>“But you don’t mean that you think <em>we</em> had anything +to do with it!” gasped Loring.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what he was,” replied Clif, frowning. +“He never played much, I guess. He was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>generally on the bench. Anyway, you can’t say his +accident helps me any! And, as for the other—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Horner Academy was beaten, 4 to 2, in a well-played +game, Ogden going the whole length in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>“Psychology?” said the man inquiringly.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Heck,” said Tom, “you’d <em>know</em>, and of course +we couldn’t do it!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“He came, and I liked his looks from the first. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Well—well—” stammered Clif eagerly when the +narrator stopped, “what happened, sir?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Great!” approved Clif.</p> + +<p>“And do you really think, sir,” asked Loring, +“that mental suggestion did it?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to decide that for yourself. That is, +<em>I</em> think so, but the Major doesn’t. He says he took +his eye off the ball!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X"> + CHAPTER X + <br> + <small>“FIGHT! FIGHT!”</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“How come he was in the English Army, though, +if he’s an American?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he’s an American at all,” scoffed +Tom.</p> + +<p>“I do! Look at the way he talks. Not all the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>time, but usually. He doesn’t talk a bit like Wattles.”</p> + +<p>“I think,” said Loring gravely, “he’s a Cosmopolite.”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>went wrong and a quick peg to third caught Raiford +flat-footed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span></p> + +<p>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 <em>so</em>?” 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.</p> + +<p>After that events were very confusing. Clif found +himself wedged against a painfully sharp plank, connected +in some minor capacity with the grandstand, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>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 “<em>Ugh!</em>” 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.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” he panted. “Let’s beat it before they +get sore!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll say so!” agreed Jack, put his shoulder against +a neighbor and led the way. No one tried to detain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“There’s a bunch of them,” he announced uneasily. +“They’re running now. Gosh, we can’t fight them +all!”</p> + +<p>“I guess they won’t trouble us,” said Jack. But +his tone lacked conviction.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“About four or five blocks, I think. Let’s run, +Tom.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span></p> + +<p>“Aw, what for?” Jack protested. “I’m not afraid +of that gang.”</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI"> + CHAPTER XI + <br> + <small>TOM HITS A “JOLLY CRASH”</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.</p> + +<p>“Say,” asked Clif while Tom paused to examine +his countenance in a window, “what the dickens did +you do that for, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I didn’t. And anyway that hunk of cheese +will keep his thoughts to himself for awhile, I +guess.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>returned to his seat, he glanced about to make certain. +Whereupon Mr. Connover spoke solicitously.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with your face, Kemble?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>Tom feigned surprise and passed an inquiring +hand over it. “Must be dirt, sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Tom, enlightenment in his voice. +“That, you mean? Yes, sir, I—I did have an accident, +sort of.”</p> + +<p>“Ran into something, perhaps?” asked the coach +gravely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I—ran into—something.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a good scout,” muttered Tom as the coach +retired.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>was proved by something which happened one evening +that week.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“Huh?” ejaculated Tom.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cooper smiled. “The quickest way to do a +thing is to—<em>do</em> it. Try it to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What did you say about Tom?” he asked.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“Probably you mean smash, Wattles. No, I +didn’t see it, but I’m glad to hear it. Do you mean +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>that he stood up to the plate, like the others, and +didn’t crouch?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely, sir. I was quite surprised!”</p> + +<p>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——”</p> + +<p>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 +<em>smack</em> as the sphere struck his cupped hands and—marvel +of marvels—stayed there!</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Well bowled, sir!” shouted Tom from the bench, +joyously. “Oh, very well bowled, sir!”</p> + +<p>Wattles resumed his seat with dignity, resettled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>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!</p> + +<p>“Gee,” said Loring enviously, “I wish I could +have caught that, Wattles! Say, I’ll bet it felt good, +didn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Wattles cleared his throat. “Er—yes, sir, I think +I may say that the sensation was surprisingly agreeable.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, quite, sir,” replied Wattles warmly. “He +certainly poked out a remarkably nice bingle, Mr. +Loring.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>do</em> 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—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span></p> + +<p>“Do you mean,” demanded Loring in pained +tones, “that you didn’t—didn’t have your mind +on—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But you must have subconsciously determined—”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t even think of the old subconscious,” +declared Tom brutally. “I tell you I kept clear of +all that stuff. I—”</p> + +<p>“Hold on a minute,” laughed Clif. “Just awhile +ago you said you ‘made up your mind to quit all the +funny business.’”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>to-morrow night? Say, that’s great! I always +suspected I had a grand little mind!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, I can! Heck, there’s no trick to it after +you learn how.”</p> + +<p>“Still, I noticed you got only one hit off Sam +Erlingby in three times up.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Is that <em>so</em>?” asked Tom with stinging sarcasm.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII"> + CHAPTER XII + <br> + <small>THE BATTLING FLIVVER</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that chap who drives the ‘The Wreck +of the Hesperus’?” exclaimed Clif, outraged.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p> + +<p>“Sure. Why not? The thing goes all right, so +what do you care how it looks?”</p> + +<p>“We-ell, but you’re sure we can’t hook a ride with +one of the crews. Those busses hold—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Loring? Gosh, I don’t believe so. Still, he +might. That would mean taking Wattles, too, +though.”</p> + +<p>“Leave Wattles at home. As long as the car held +together Loring would be all right. Let’s ask him.”</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>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!</p> + +<p>But the eight occupants of the second boat—nine +if we include young Carter, the cox—thought better +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“We won!” he shouted. “We won! Look at +those fellows!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>performing antics that threatened to take them +overboard!</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” some one begged. “They’re trying to +tell us!”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“A-a-ay yourself!” yelled Tom. “Wait till you +see what happens to ’em in the next race!”</p> + +<p>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 <em>snap</em> 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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Are you all right?” demanded Clif anxiously.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span></p> + +<p>“Guess we’d better go home,” said Tom, scowling +blackly at Gussie. “You must be all in, Loring.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Heck, it doesn’t bother me. What do you say, +Clif?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII"> + CHAPTER XIII + <br> + <small>TOM PAYS A CALL</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Loring Deane’s man there.” Pringle +nodded toward the other side of the diamond. “Say, +it was funny!”</p> + +<p>“It must have been,” said Tom dryly. “Or maybe +it’s just the humorous way you tell it.”</p> + +<p>“No, listen. Saturday Linton and Cox and I took +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>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 <em>was</em> +Wattles! He—”</p> + +<p>“You’re crazy,” said Tom. “<em>Wattles!</em>”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Not Wattles,” corrected Tom gravely. “Wattles +wears braces.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“Did he catch anything?” asked Tom, chuckling.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Chase yourself,” advised Pringle disgustedly. +“It <em>was</em> 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!”</p> + +<p>“Naughty boy,” admonished Tom, smiling. +“Mustn’t tell fibs. Papa spank terrifically.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You mean you knew about it?” demanded Tom +disappointedly.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>“Shows he’s human,” said Clif. “I’d like to have +seen him, though.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“None better,” agreed Tom feelingly. “Gentlemen, +a toast! I give you Wattles and His Majesty +the King!”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>They discussed Mr. Cooper’s absence presently, +Tom pessimistically offering his theory to the effect +that the entertaining gentleman had gone his way. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if he doesn’t, what of it?” asked Tom. +“He’s all right, but we’d manage somehow without +him, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Is that <em>so</em>? 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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Cooper?” asked the clerk. “Yes, sir, I think +you’ll find him in his room, Number 4. Do you +know where it is?”</p> + +<p>“I can find it, I guess.” Tom turned toward the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span></p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Rheumatism, sir?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>might be an explorer instead. “You see,” said Tom, +“I like to move around and see places. I mean I +<em>would</em> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he had a right to be. For one thing, he +had been promoted to the first team.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV"> + CHAPTER XIV + <br> + <small>INSIDE STUFF</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Loring triumphantly that evening, +“now I guess you’ll admit that there’s something in +will power!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cooper chuckled and Clif laughed loudly. +“You mean two years,” said the latter. “I’ve got as +much chance—”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“And play hard,” interpolated Mr. Cooper +quietly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and play hard, there’s no telling what may +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly,” laughed Loring, “but we were having +a rather hot argument.”</p> + +<p>“For Pete’s sake! What about?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>two runs were badly needed he thought the best play +was to let Cob soak the ball.”</p> + +<p>“And why wasn’t it?” asked Clif. “Cob has got +some long hits off Purdy before to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it was,” answered Loring. “But it +didn’t seem so to me. That’s what led to the discussion.”</p> + +<p>“You think Cob should have bunted, eh?” asked +Tom.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And there’d have been one run in instead of +two,” objected Tom.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Sure. Cob flied out because he picked a bad one,” +said Tom. “But if he had hit safe—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know it all depends on the ‘ifs,’” laughed +Loring, “but I still think the situation called for a +bunt.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, but Billy wasn’t pitching high ones, maybe, +and not one fellow in twenty can bunt a low delivery.”</p> + +<p>“But Billy <em>was</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“But,” asked Tom, “how the dickens was Steve to +know beforehand that Billy would pitch ’em high?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Help!” exclaimed Tom. “The old bean’s getting +groggy, son! Say, where’d you get all this inside +stuff? Not just reading those books?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>just as though I had some sense. He was mighty +decent.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” asked Mr. Cooper interestedly, “how was +it decided?”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t,” laughed Loring. “Six rounds, no decision.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV"> + CHAPTER XV + <br> + <small>WATTLES IS CARELESS</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I don’t understand that,” said Loring.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>do</em> 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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>Deane, or lose one; not unless we call psychology by +a shorter name.”</p> + +<p>“You mean—luck, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Chance,” said Mr. Connover. “Chance, the finest +baseball and football general in the histories of the +games!”</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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 <em>are</em> like +that!”</p> + +<p>The last sentence was added defensively in response +to Lovey’s smile.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.” Clif hesitated. “He didn’t tell you— +I mean, you don’t happen to know why he’s here, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there isn’t any reason why he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>shouldn’t,” laughed Clif, “only it seems sort of a +dead place to <em>live</em> in. I mean to say, if you hadn’t +some <em>reason</em> for doing it, sir, you wouldn’t hit on this +place as a—a residence, now would you?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course,” Clif flushed slightly. “I guess +you think I’m sort of cheeky, sir, but—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>So Clif departed better informed on the national +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>character, but with no new information regarding +Mr. Cooper.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span></p> + +<p>“If you were going— But do you mean that you +aren’t, sir?” Loring sounded outraged. “Why, +don’t you think that every citizen—”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely, Loring! But, you see, I’m not a +citizen.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean, sir?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“I mean that I’m not an American citizen. I +thought you chaps knew.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<em>glug-glug</em> of its wasting contents.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI"> + CHAPTER XVI + <br> + <small>A DOUBLE DEFEAT</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>the shrieks of her adherents, not quite two lengths +ahead.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The game was well played and almost every inning +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>Clif begged him not to be a giddy ass.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“But,” responded Tom gently, “think where you’d +be without it! Playing with the West Hall Terriers, +probably.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said Clif, “I’d rather make the first, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see,” chuckled Mr. Bingham, “what’s the +difference in your ages, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“More than five months,” replied Tom impressively.</p> + +<p>“In whose favor?” asked Mr. Cooper innocently, +and brought a laugh.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Deering,” said Loring. “But he’s nothing +much.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You play Wolcott next Saturday?” asked Mr. +Bingham. “Does Wolcott come here, or—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Clif. “That’s the first game. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>We go to Cotterville Tuesday for the second and +then play here again Wednesday in case of a tie.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>good</em>! +And I guess that fast ball artist of theirs isn’t much +worse.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What of it? They’ve got a second-string outfield +of left-hand batters!”</p> + +<p>“Where do you get all this dope?” asked Clif.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span></p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see Coach try you there,” observed +Loring.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Clouter Hearn,” offered Clif.</p> + +<p>“Shut up! What I mean is, I—I—well, call it +luck if you like—”</p> + +<p>“What else could it be?” chuckled Clif.</p> + +<p>Tom aimed a kick at him, missed by inches and +subsided.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is that <em>so</em>?” 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!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Your statistics are absolutely correct,” said Tom, +“only I object to the—the inference you suggest.”</p> + +<p>“What inference?” asked Loring.</p> + +<p>“That the blamed old team was getting along all +right until I joined it!”</p> + +<p>“Facts speak for themselves,” said Clif.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Since when,” remarked Clif maliciously, “we’ve +been licked four times.”</p> + +<p>“Just how many games have been won and how +many lost?” asked Mr. Bingham, lighting a fresh +cigar.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>expected the team to win at least fourteen out of +twenty-two.”</p> + +<p>“That was bluff,” said Tom. “Coaches always +make cracks like that at the start of the season.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what about your enemy?” asked Mr. +Bingham. “What has Wolcott been doing?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Mustn’t think about that,” murmured Mr. +Cooper. “Always start a scrap with the conviction +that you’re better than the other chap.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” agreed Loring; and,</p> + +<p>“Yeah, psychology,” grunted Tom.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII"> + CHAPTER XVII + <br> + <small>LORING GOES SCOUTING</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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!</p> + +<p>Tom was not enjoying himself very much those +days. He expressed the conviction, a rather faint +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>conviction, that he would get good enough marks in +his studies to pass, but since by Wednesday he had +accumulated nothing better than <em>D’s</em> his friends +weren’t so sanguine. “Of course I’ll flop in English,” +he explained resignedly, “but I ought to get a +<em>B</em> in Hygiene and a <em>C</em> 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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, but there’d be time enough after college. +Or you could do a bit of travel in summer.”</p> + +<p>“Swell chance with old Winslow holding the purse +strings!”</p> + +<p>“Really? But he wouldn’t object to your going +across now and then, would he?”</p> + +<p>“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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“If you fail to pass I dare say you could do a bit +of tutoring this summer and get back again, eh?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span></p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Why, do you think—do you think I could, Mr. +Connover?” gasped the boy. “You know I can’t get +around very—very fast!”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Why, thanks,” murmured Loring, “but—gee, I +don’t know! I couldn’t be better than an assistant +year after next, could I?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear what Mr. Connover was saying, +Wattles?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you think? Do you believe I +could do it?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“We could do it, sir. I’ve no doubt the young +gentlemen would make it as easy as possible for you, +Mr. Loring.”</p> + +<p>“But that’s just it, Wattles. I wouldn’t want any +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>favors, and I’m afraid I couldn’t—couldn’t fill the +bill without them.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“They should be left-handers, too, shouldn’t they?” +Loring asked lightly.</p> + +<p>“Bless us, yes! But almost any sort would do. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“And they’re doing so well otherwise,” said Loring. +“It does seem too bad that they aren’t hitting +better.”</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” prompted the +coach, smiling. “What did you start to say?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t trouble. I’ll look after myself, Deane. +Who have you in mind? Can he hit? Why haven’t +I seen him?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span></p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm. An outfielder, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Centerfielder, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You say he’s been hitting? Any idea what average +he’s made with the scrub?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“Well, for several weeks, sir. He beat out a fellow +named Burke.”</p> + +<p>“I see.” Mr. Connover’s gaze strayed to the +second diamond. “Look here, Deane, I can’t leave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I’ll be glad to. I meant to go over, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Sure is. All right, you watch me. I’ll throw my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>thought on that pitcher the next time and make him +give me what I want! And if he does, just watch it +travel!”</p> + +<p>“I hope it does, Clif! And I hope you’ll hit every +time you’re up!”</p> + +<p>“Thanks for your good wishes,” answered the +other carelessly as he sauntered off toward the outfield. +“We’ll strive not to disappoint you.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“A.B. 4; R. 1; 1B. 2; S.B. 1; S.H. 1; P.O. 2; +A. 2; E. 0.”</p> + +<p>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 “<em>Gosh!</em>” +very softly, almost reverently. “<em>What do you +know?</em>”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span></p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"> + CHAPTER XVIII + <br> + <small>WYNDHAM WINS</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>on, the best Raiford could do was foul out to Van +Dyke. One hit, no errors, no runs.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“For Wyndham, Bingham batting in place of +Greene!”</p> + +<p>I’ve stated that Clif was nervous, and so he was, +but he tried very hard not to let the enemy battery +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>and somewhat more than half the audience went +stark, staring mad!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>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?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cooper nodded, and the many little wrinkles +about his eyes danced. “Try to keep me away,” he +answered.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX"> + CHAPTER XIX + <br> + <small>WALKING PAPERS</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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.”</p> + +<p>Tom shrugged. “Oh, no, I’d hate it! I couldn’t +be happy outside the dear old State of New Jersey.”</p> + +<p>“You’re out of it now,” said Clif.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span></p> + +<p>“And no better off,” answered Tom. “New +Jersey—Connecticut—what’s the diff?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“If I could he’d take it at Asbury Park,” replied +Tom disconsolately. “Heck, I don’t believe he even +knows there <em>is</em> such a place as Europe!”</p> + +<p>“You might try the ‘old will power,’” suggested +Mr. Cooper. “After what it’s done here, you know, +eh?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span></p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I sort of forgot,” muttered Tom. “You +fellows must have done it single—no, double-handed.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>be a bit surprised to run across the whole lot of you +over there later on.”</p> + +<p>“Well, <em>I’d</em> be surprised if you did, mightily surprised!” +retorted Tom. “Unless ‘over there’ means +Asbury Park!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Cooper seriously, “Switzerland. +You never can tell.”</p> + +<p>Tom looked at him incredulously, opened his lips +to speak, thought better of it and subsided.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’ve got through finals all right, +Loring,” said Tom. “It must be funny not to have +to worry any about them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m fairly certain of passing,” replied +Loring. “How about you?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Tom’s hunch proved correct, thanks to a fortunate +and, to him, quite inexplicable <em>B</em> 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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Tom acknowledged, “I haven’t got +much to boast of. If ‘Cocky’ hadn’t given me that +<em>B</em> 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!”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you stay and have lunch with me?” asked +Mr. Cooper a few minutes later.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <em>B’s</em> +he had been awarded <em>C’s</em>. 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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>expansive mood, should have chosen that particular +opportunity to be affable.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Wink!” he greeted, refusing to be satisfied +with the nod and grunt they usually exchanged +on meeting. “How’d you come out?”</p> + +<p>“All right,” replied Wink gloomily, continuing to +lean against the wall and stare into the sunlit distance. +“How’d you?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Great! In the First Ten—counting from the +bottom! I’m still wondering how it happened.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a lucky dub, anyhow,” replied Wink +unflatteringly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span></p> + +<p>“Sounds like a nasty crack, Wink,” he said less +genially. “What’s on your mind?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” answered Wink, eying him coldly, “I +guess you were pretty lucky to land on the nine, +weren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sure!” replied Wink sarcastically. “Fortunes +of war and a lot of luck, Kemble.”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is that <em>so</em>?” inquired Tom. “Meaning I swiped +for that job, eh? You’ve got a crust!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Tom smiled. If Wink had known him a good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said grimly. “I’ll fight now, but +not here. Come around the corner.”</p> + +<p>“You bet you’ll fight!” raged Wink Coles, following +the other. “You’ll fight or I’ll chase you all +over the lot!”</p> + +<p>“Save your breath,” advised Tom, and went down +the steps, slipping out of his coat as he went.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later a scandalized first classman +hurried over from the tennis courts, followed by a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>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—</p> + +<p>“Kemble!”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yeth—<em>no</em>, thir!” Tom wished he didn’t have +to lisp like that. It sounded so silly! But the inside +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“I with you’d let me tell you, pleathe, thir! +Honeth, I didn’t thtart it, thir. You thee—”</p> + +<p>“That will do, Kemble. I don’t want your +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“Yeth, thir.” Tom attained a certain dignity +then, not an easy thing to do under the circumstances. +“I’m thorry, Mither Connover.”</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>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—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Think he will let us back to-morrow?” asked +Wink.</p> + +<p>“You,” growled Tom. “Not me. I’m fired. +For keeps.”</p> + +<p>There was a long moment of silence. Then:</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Tom gave up trying to undo an obdurate knot +and faced his recent antagonist. “Says I’m a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well.” Tom shrugged. “I didn’t have to, +I guess.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Sure was,” agreed Wink sadly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” answered the other hurriedly. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>“Guess I know how you felt. Just rotten luck, that’s +all. Forget it, Wink.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you’d let me tell Steve just what happened; +how it started and all.”</p> + +<p>“Swell scheme!” jeered Tom. “Tell him you +said he was playing favorites, eh? You’d make a +hit with him!”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t care,” muttered Wink. “Besides, I +was only talking. I know Steve’s square just as +well as you do.”</p> + +<p>“You do!” Tom stared in amazement. “Well, +I’ll be switched! Then why—what—”</p> + +<p>Wink shrugged disconsolately. “I just wanted to +make you mad, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Huh! Well, you did it! But you keep away +from Steve!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX"> + CHAPTER XX + <br> + <small>CLIF GETS AN ERROR</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>That naïve statement brought the first laugh of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I guess that’s right,” sighed Clif. “I guess he +has a hunch that we’re going to get smeared to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Heck, why should we?” demanded Tom. +“Didn’t we beat them Saturday? Why can’t we do +it again?”</p> + +<p>“For several reasons,” answered Clif tartly. +“One of ’em is that you’ve spilled the beans, you +poor fish!”</p> + +<p>“Aw, shut up,” growled Tom unhappily.</p> + +<p>There had been talk of Cobham behind the plate +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>hit to shortstop, and Wolcott, although she got a +runner to second, was not yet able to solve Erlingby’s +slants.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>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 <em>crack</em>. 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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI"> + CHAPTER XXI + <br> + <small>WATTLES INTERVENES</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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?”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“Just the same,” replied Loring, “I wish you were +going to be in there to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>Loring, studying the score he had kept of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>afternoon’s game, nodded absently. “I’m all right. +Don’t hurry back, Wattles.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.” Wattles set his black derby +very carefully in place and departed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Ah, it’s Wattles,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.” Wattles arose to make the admission.</p> + +<p>“Well, sit down. What can I do for you? Or, +I suppose, Mr. Deane.”</p> + +<p>“I took the liberty of coming on my own account, +sir,” replied Wattles a trifle nervously.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Well, glad to see you. Just what—ah—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Steve looked distinctly surprised. “I didn’t know +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>you were a fan, Wattles. However, what you say +is absolutely true. Our infield leaves much to be +desired. Or it did this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, and that’s why I took the liberty of +coming. I’d like to speak to you about Mr. Tom, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Mr. Tom, Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kemble, sir, I should say.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“That part’s all right. I’ve nothing to do until +supper time, but— Oh, all right, Wattles, shoot!”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm.” Mr. Connover shook his head in smiling +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, you didn’t know,” reminded Wattles.</p> + +<p>“No, and now that I do know I’m afraid it can’t +alter things any. You understand that, Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, absolutely not, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, there we are.” Mr. Connover smiled +gently.</p> + +<p>“Quite so, sir. When I suggested mitigating +circumstances I had in mind the fact that Mr. Tom +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir. I’ve been considering the study +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Fine! Now suppose you go on with the case. +Suppose you were in my place, Wattles, eh?”</p> + +<p>“It’s very kind of you, sir, to give—to receive +my—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Connover, as I look at it, it’s the other +young gentleman who should bear the—the brunt of +the punishment.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>drop Coles now it would look a bit—well, odd. +Belated justice, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. And to-morrow being the last day of +school, sir—”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, absolutely, sir,” replied Wattles gravely.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Connover arose and held out his hand. Wattles, +seriously embarrassed, took it.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Still, it was an awful thing to do,” said Clif +rather more cheerfully. “I—I don’t know yet how +it happened. I <em>caught</em> the ball all right, but, gee, +somehow—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I will if I get the chance,” sighed Clif, “but I +guess Steve isn’t likely to let me play to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. He needs hitters, Clif, and +you’re certainly hitting better than Al Greene.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t do much yesterday except for that one +single.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span></p> + +<p>“Say, how do you get that way?” demanded Tom. +“My Sainted Aunt Jerusha, didn’t that hit send in +two runs? You’re cuckoo!”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, did you ever happen to remember about +it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You did! Well, why the dickens didn’t you tell +me?”</p> + +<p>“Possibly the opportunity didn’t occur, Mr. +Loring.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, I remember that, and how surprised I +was.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” asked Loring interestedly. “Go on, +Wattles. Shoot the works.”</p> + +<p>“I beg pardon, sir?” said Wattles startledly.</p> + +<p>“Meaning tell the whole story,” laughed Loring.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span></p> + +<p>“The War! No, you never told me that, +Wattles.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“And that was Mr. Cooper!” exclaimed Loring.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Wattles,” chuckled Loring, “you’re a scream.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Wattles. “The other leg, +please, sir.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII"> + CHAPTER XXII + <br> + <small>THE FINAL GAME</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">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. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>you’ll get the game, the series and the championship. +No cheers, fellows. Let’s go.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“La—dies ’n gen’mun! Batteries for the game! +For Wolcott, Osterman ’n Bailey! For Wyndham, +Ogden ’n Cobham! Play ball!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Talbott, following Tom at bat, reached first on an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"> + CHAPTER XXIII + <br> + <small>BASES FULL!</small> + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="cap">“First man!” shouted Hurry.</p> + +<p>“First man!” echoed Van. “Let’s get +him, gang!”</p> + +<p>“No one reaches first!” proclaimed Pat Tyson. +“Go after him, Jeff!”</p> + +<p>So <a href="#i_frontispiece">Jeff</a> nodded, <a href="#i_frontispiece">wound up and pitched</a>, 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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>followed, though, and the runners from third and +second scored the tying runs!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>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!</p> + +<p>“Risley batting for Ogden!” shouted the umpire.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>“fallaway” slide, an eager foot reaching for its +goal!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span></p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Trust you!” said Tom. “What time do we start +along, Loring?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I won’t be in the way?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead,” said Loring. “Hope he’s been +generous.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>“Come back?” echoed Clif. “Do you mean +<em>here</em>?”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<em>right</em>! 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—”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>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.</p> + +<p>“Gee, Mr. Cooper, you’re some sheik!” he +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cooper’s brows raised. “Really! Why, that +<em>is</em> bad news, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Rotten!” declared Clif. “We had it all fixed +to room together, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Tom says it’s the expense that’s worrying the +guardian,” said Loring. “And it’s Tom’s money, +too.”</p> + +<p>“And so you’re going to run away,” mused Mr. +Cooper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span></p> + +<p>“I’m going in the Navy,” declared Tom defiantly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Tom stared doubtfully. Then he grinned. “I’d +like to know where you get your dope,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>Tom laughed doubtfully. “I don’t see how— +But, heck, sir, you make it sound real!”</p> + +<p>“It is real. You’ve got nothing to worry about. +Mr. Winslow is—er—Mr. Winslow is mistaken.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he finds it out!” said Tom.</p> + +<p>“I’m quite certain he will. You may count on—”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span></p> + +<p>“But he called Mr. Cooper ‘Jack Kemble’!” persisted +Tom. “I—I don’t like it! It’s spooky! That +was my—my—”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, not a bit,” murmured Loring.</p> + +<p>“What did he call you?” demanded Tom a trifle +shrilly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that!” Mr. Cooper laughed lightly. “That +<em>was</em> 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?”</p> + +<p>“Kemble, sir,” answered Clif.</p> + +<p>“I thought it sounded like that, too. Odd, eh? I +mean, a bit of a coincidence, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Tom was leaning forward in his chair, staring +frowningly. “I don’t believe that!” he broke forth +harshly. “What <em>is</em> your name? You’ve got to +tell us!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“John Middenwill Cooper-Kemble,” he said.</p> + +<p>There was another moment of silence in the room, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>broken at last by Tom’s voice, low and trembling.</p> + +<p>“What—what are you to—me?” he faltered.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Alike? Gosh, I can’t see that! And I don’t +see how any one could have guessed—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span></p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Loring laughed. “I don’t think you need worry +about that. Tom’s crazy about him, Clif. Has been +for a month!”</p> + +<p>Wattles entered, bearing a huge kit-bag from the +storeroom.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Wha-at!</em> How the dickens did <em>you</em> ever hear +it?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t, but what about it?”</p> + +<p>“I took the liberty, sir, of examining it. Not +from any desire to—er—pry into the gentleman’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>affairs, sir, but merely because I have a—a weakness, +as you might say, for leather articles—”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right! Get on, Wattles, for Pete’s +sake!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Well, Mr. Loring, there was a name +printed under the flap; in gold letters, sir: ‘J. M. +Cooper-Kemble’ it was.”</p> + +<p>“For the love of lemons!” sighed Loring. “How +long ago was this, Wattles?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps a fortnight, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And you never said a word!”</p> + +<p>Wattles drew himself up slightly. “I am not the +sort, Mr. Loring, to violate a gentleman’s confidence,” +he replied with dignity.</p> + +<p>Loring threw up his hands. “You’ll do, Wattles! +Here, get me over to the gym. It’s eight o’clock +already!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>asked diffidently: “Is everything all right, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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 +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What did you tell him, Tom?” asked Clif +anxiously.</p> + +<p>Tom, staring up at the moon, grinned almost embarrassedly.</p> + +<p>“I told him,” he answered, “that he’d better stick +around!”</p> + +<p class="p4 noic">THE END</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="noi author">BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> +</div> + +<hr class="r30"> + +<p class="noic"><i>North Bank Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adtitle">Three Base Benson</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Kick Formation</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Coxswain of the Eight</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Some Books Not in Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adtitle">For the Good of the Team</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">The Fighting Scrub</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Follow the Ball</p> + +<p>Describes a boy’s full year, telling of athletics and +other activities and of the events of the vacation season +as well.</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Each $1.75</i></p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>The Grafton Series</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noic"><i>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.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="noi adtitle">Rivals for the Team</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Winning His Game</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Hitting the Line</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>The Purple Pennant Series</i></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noic"><i>In these books Mr. Barbour tells of life in the overage high school. Each book is a thriller.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="noi adtitle">The Lucky Seventh</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">The Secret Play</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">The Purple Pennant</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Hilton Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adtitle">The Half Back</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">For the Honor of the School</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Captain of the Crew</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Erskine Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adtitle">Behind the Line</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Weatherby’s Inning</p> + +<p>A story of a young man’s struggle against untoward +circumstances in a small New England college. Baseball +furnishes the chief athletic interest.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">On Your Mark</p> + +<p>Track work furnishes the athletic interest in this +story of school life.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Yardley Hall Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adtitle">Forward Pass</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Double Play</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Winning His “Y”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">For Yardley</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Change Signals</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p class="noi adtitle">Around the End</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p class="p2 noic">These Are Appleton Books</p> + +<hr class="r30"> + +<p class="noic">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap"> +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> + +<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p> + +<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> + +<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76800 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + + |