bleachers and a few spectators in the grand-stand, so poor an attendance
that the State players loudly voiced their derision.
"Hey! boys," yelled one, "we drew a crowd last year, and look at that!"
"It's Wayne's dub team," replied another. They ran upon the field as if
the result of the game was a foregone conclusion. Their pitcher, a lanky
individual, handled the ball with assurance.
Homans led off for Wayne. He stood left-handed at the plate, and held
his bat almost in the middle. He did not swing, but poked at the first
ball pitched and placed a short hit over third. Raymond, also left-handed,
came next, and, letting two balls go, he bunted the third. Running fast,
he slid into first base and beat the throw. Homans kept swiftly on toward
third, drew the throw, and, sliding, was also safe. It was fast work,
and the Wayne players seemed to rise off the bench with the significance
of the play. Worry Arthurs looked on from under the brim of his hat, and
spoke no word. Then Reddy Ray stepped up.
"They're all left-handed!" shouted a State player. The pitcher looked
at Reddy, then motioned for his outfielders to play deeper. With that
he delivered the ball, which the umpire called a strike. Reddy stood
still and straight while two more balls sped by, then he swung on the
next. A vicious low hit cut out over first base and skipped in great
bounds to the fence. Homans scored. Raymond turned second, going fast.
But it was Ray's speed that electrified the watching players. They
jumped up cheering.
"Oh, see him run!" yelled Ken.
He was on third before Raymond reached the plate. Weir lifted a high
fly to left field, and when the ball dropped into the fielder's hands
Ray ran home on the throw-in. Three runs had been scored in a twinkling.
It amazed the State team. They were not slow in bandying remarks among
themselves. "Fast! Who's that red-head? Is this your dub team? Get in
the game, boys!" They began to think more of playing ball and less of
their own superiority. Graves, however, and McCord following him, went
out upon plays to the infield.
As Ken walked out toward the pitcher's box Homans put a hand on his arm,
and said: "Kid, put them all over. Don't waste any. Make every batter
hit. Keep your nerve. We're back of you out here." Then Reddy Ray, in
passing, spoke with a cool, quiet faith that thrilled Ken, "Peg, we've
got enough runs now to win."
Ken faced the plate all in a white glow. He was far from calmness, but
it was a restless, fiery hurry for the action of the game. He remembered
the look in Worry's eyes, and every word that he had spoken rang in his
ears. Receiving the ball from the umpire, he stepped upon the slab with
a sudden, strange, deep tremor. It passed as quickly, and then he was
eying the first batter. He drew a long breath, standing motionless, with
all the significance of Worry's hope flashing before him, and then he
whirled and delivered the ball. The batter struck at it after it had
passed him, and it cracked in Dean's mitt.
"Speed!" called the State captain. "Quick eye, there!"
The batter growled some unintelligible reply. Then he fouled the second
ball, missed the next, and was out. The succeeding State player hit an
easy fly to Homans, and the next had two strikes called upon him, and
swung vainly at the third.
Dean got a base on balls for Wayne, Trace went out trying to bunt,
and Ken hit into short, forcing Dean at second. Homans lined to third,
retiring the side. The best that the State players could do in their
half was for one man to send a weak grounder to Raymond, one to fly out,
and the other to fail on strikes. Wayne went to bat again, and Raymond
got his base by being hit by a pitched ball. Reddy Ray bunted and was
safe. Weir struck out. Graves rapped a safety through short, scoring
Raymond, and sending Ray to third. Then McCord fouled out to the catcher.
Again, in State's inning, they failed to get on base, being unable to
hit Ken effectively.
So the game progressed, State slowly losing its aggressive playing, and
Wayne gaining what its opponents had lost. In the sixth Homans reached
his base on an error, stole second, went to third on Raymond's sacrifice,
and scored on Reddy's drive to right. State flashed up in their half,
getting two men to first on misplays of McCord and Weir, and scored a
run on a slow hit to Graves.
With the bases full, Ken let his arm out and pitched the fast ball at
the limit of his speed. The State batters were helpless before it, but
they scored two runs on passed strikes by Dean. The little catcher had
a hard time judging Ken's jump ball. That ended the run-getting for
State, though they came near scoring again on more fumbling in the
infield. In the eighth Ken landed a safe fly over second, and tallied
on a double by Homans.
Before Ken knew the game was half over it had ended--Wayne 6, State 3.
His players crowded around him and some one called for the Wayne yell.
It was given with wild vehemence.
From that moment until dinner was over at the training-house Ken
appeared to be the centre of a humming circle. What was said and
done he never remembered. Then the coach stopped the excitement.
"Boys, now for a heart-to-heart talk," he said, with a smile both happy
and grave. "We won to-day, as I predicted. State had a fairly strong team,
but if Ward had received perfect support they would not have got a man
beyond second. That's the only personal mention I'll make. Now, listen...."
He paused, with his eyes glinting brightly and his jaw quivering.
"I expected to win, but before the game I never dreamed of our
possibilities. I got a glimpse now of what hard work and a demon
spirit to play together might make this team. I've had an inspiration.
We are goin' to beat Herne and play Place to a standstill."
Not a boy moved an eyelash as Arthurs made this statement,
and the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard.
"To do that we must pull together as no boys ever pulled together
before. We must be all one heart. We must be actuated by one spirit.
Listen! If you will stick together and to me, I'll make a team that
will be a wonder. Never the hittin' team as good as last year's varsity,
but a faster team, a finer machine. Think of that! Think of how we have
been treated this year! For that we'll win all the greater glory. It's
worth all there is in you, boys. You would have the proudest record of
any team that ever played for old Wayne.
"I love the old college, boys, and I've given it the best years of my
life. If it's anything to you, why, understand that if I fail to build
up a good team this year I shall be let go by those directors who have
made the change in athletics. I could stand that, but--I've a boy of
my own who's preparin' for Wayne, and my heart is set on seein' him
enter--and he said he never will if they let me go. So, you youngsters
and me--we've much to gain. Go to your rooms now and think, think as
you never did before, until the spirit of this thing, the possibility
of it, grips you as it has me."
XII
KEN CLASHES WITH GRAVES
Two weeks after the contest with State University four more games
with minor colleges had been played and won by Wayne. Hour by hour
the coach had drilled the players; day by day the grilling practice
told in quickening grasp of team-play, in gradual correction of
erratic fielding and wild throwing. Every game a few more students
attended, reluctantly, in half-hearted manner.
"We're comin' with a rush," said Worry to Ken. "Say, but Dale and the
old gang have a surprise in store for 'em! And the students--they're
goin' to drop dead pretty soon.... Peg, Murray tells me he's puttin'
weight on you."
"Why, yes, it's the funniest thing," replied Ken. "To-day I weighed
one hundred and sixty-four. Worry, I'm afraid I'm getting fat."
"Fat, nothin'," snorted Worry. "It's muscle. I told Murray to put beef
on you all he can. Pretty soon you'll be able to peg a ball through the
back-stop. Dean's too light, Peg. He's plucky and will make a catcher,
but he's too light. You're batterin' him all up."
Worry shook his head seriously.
"Oh, he's fine!" exclaimed Ken. "I'm not afraid any more. He digs my
drop out of the dust, and I can't get a curve away from him. He's weak
only on the jump ball, and I don't throw that often, only when I let
drive."
"You'll be usin' that often enough against Herne and Place. I'm dependin'
on that for those games. Peg, are you worryin' any, losin' any sleep, over
those games?"
"Indeed I'm not," replied Ken, laughing.
"Say, I wish you'd have a balloon ascension, and have it quick. It ain't
natural, Peg, for you not to get a case of rattles. It's comin' to you,
and I don't want it in any of the big games."
"I don't want it either. But Worry, pitching is all a matter of control,
you say so often. I don't believe I could get wild and lose my control if
I tried."
"Peg, you sure have the best control of any pitcher I ever coached. It's
your success. It'll make a great pitcher out of you. All you've got to
learn is where to pitch 'em to Herne and Place."
"How am I to learn that?"
"Listen!" Worry whispered. "I'm goin' to send you to Washington next week
to see Place and Herne play Georgetown. You'll pay your little money and
sit in the grand-stand right behind the catcher. You'll have a pencil and a
score card, and you'll be enjoyin' the game. But, Peg, you'll also be usin'
your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit
weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot
it down on your card. You'll watch Place's hard hitters with hawk eyes,
my boy, and a pitcher's memory. And when they come along to Grant Field
you'll have 'em pretty well sized up."
"That's fine, Worry, but is it fair?" queried Ken.
"Fair? Why, of course. They all do it. We saw Place's captain in the
grand-stand here last spring."
The coach made no secret of his pride and faith in Ken. It was this,
perhaps, as much as anything, which kept Ken keyed up. For Ken was
really pitching better ball than he knew how to pitch. He would have
broken his arm for Worry; he believed absolutely in what the coach
told him; he did not think of himself at all.
Worry, however, had plenty of enthusiasm for his other players. Every
evening after dinner he would call them all about him and talk for an
hour. Sometimes he would tell funny baseball stories; again, he told of
famous Wayne-Place games, and how they had been won or lost; then at other
times he dwelt on the merits and faults of his own team. In speaking of
the swift development of this year's varsity he said it was as remarkable
as it had been unforeseen. He claimed it would be a bewildering surprise
to Wayne students and to the big college teams. He was working toward
the perfection of a fast run-getting machine. In the five games already
played and won a good idea could be gotten of Wayne's team, individually
and collectively. Homans was a scientific short-field hitter and remarkably
sure. Raymond could not bat, but he had developed into a wonder in reaching
first base, by bunt or base on balls, or being hit. Reddy Ray was a hard
and timely batter, and when he got on base his wonderful fleetness made
him almost sure to score. Of the other players Graves batted the best;
but taking the team as a whole, and comparing them with Place or Herne,
it appeared that Reddy and Homans were the only great hitters, and the
two of them, of course, could not make a great hitting team. In fielding,
however, the coach said he had never seen the like. They were all fast,
and Homans was perfect in judgment on fly balls, and Raymond was quick
as lightning to knock down base hits, and as to the intercollegiate
sprinter in left field, it was simply a breath-taking event to see him
run after a ball. Last of all was Ken Ward with his great arm. It was a
strangely assorted team, Worry said, one impossible to judge at the moment,
but it was one to watch.
"Boys, we're comin' with a rush," he went on to say. "But somethin's
holdin' us back a little. There's no lack of harmony, yet there's a
drag. In spite of the spirit you've shown--and I want to say it's been
great--the team doesn't work together as one man _all_ the time. I advise
you all to stick closer together. Stay away from the club, and everywhere
except lectures. We've got to be closer 'n brothers. It'll all work out
right before we go up against Herne in June. That game's comin', boys,
and by that time the old college will be crazy. It'll be _our_ turn then."
Worry's talks always sank deeply into Ken's mind and set him to thinking
and revolving over and over the gist of them so that he could remember
to his profit.
He knew that some of the boys had broken training, and he pondered if that
was what caused the drag Worry mentioned. Ken had come to feel the life
and fortunes of the varsity so keenly that he realized how the simplest
deviations from honor might affect the smooth running of the team. It must
be perfectly smooth. And to make it so every player must be of one mind.
Ken proved to himself how lack of the highest spirit on the part of one
or two of the team tended toward the lowering of the general spirit. For
he began to worry, and almost at once it influenced his playing. He found
himself growing watchful of his comrades and fearful of what they might
be doing. He caught himself being ashamed of his suspicions. He would as
lief have cut off his hand as break his promise to the coach. Perhaps,
however, he exaggerated his feeling and sense of duty. He remembered the
scene in Dale's room the night he refused to smoke and drink; how Dale
had commended his refusal. Nevertheless, he gathered from Dale's remark
to Worry that breaking training was not unusual or particularly harmful.
"With Dale's team it might not have been so bad," thought Ken. "But it's
different with us. We've got to make up in spirit what we lack in ability."
Weir and McCord occupied the room next to Ken's, and Graves and Trace,
rooming together, were also on that floor. Ken had tried with all his
might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. He had caught Graves
carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window
open. One night Graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them
to Kel, Trace, and Ken, who all happened to be in Ken's room at the time.
Trace readily accepted; Kel demurred at first, but finally took one.
Graves then tossed the pack to Ken.
"No, I don't smoke. Besides, it's breaking training," said Ken.
"You make me sick, Ward," retorted Graves. "You're a wet blanket. Do you
think we're going to be as sissy as that? It's hard enough to stand the
grub we get here, without giving up a little smoke."
Ken made no reply, but he found it difficult to smother a hot riot in his
breast. When the other boys had gone to their rooms Ken took Kel to task
about his wrong-doing.
"Do you think that's the right sort of thing? What would Worry say?"
"Ken, I don't care about it, not a bit," replied Kel, flinging his
cigarette out of the window. "But Graves is always asking me to do
things--I hate to refuse. It seems so--"
"Kel, if Worry finds it out you'll lose your place on the team."
"No!" exclaimed Raymond, staring.
"Mark what I say. I wish you'd stop letting Graves coax you into things."
"Ken, he's always smuggling pie and cake and candy into his room. I've
had some of it. Trace said he'd brought in something to drink, too."
"It's a shame," cried Ken, in anger. "I never liked him and I've tried
hard to change it. Now I'm glad I couldn't."
"He doesn't have any use for you," replied Kel. "He's always running
you down to the other boys. What'd you ever do to him, Ken?"
"Oh, it was that potato stunt of mine last fall. He's a Soph, and I hit
him, I guess."
"I think it's more than that," went on Raymond. "Anyway, you look out
for him, because he's aching to spoil your face."
"He is, is he?" snapped Ken.
Ken was too angry to talk any more, and so the boys went to bed. The next
few days Ken discovered that either out of shame or growing estrangement
Raymond avoided him, and he was bitterly hurt. He had come to like the
little second-baseman, and had hoped they would be good friends. It was
easy to see that Graves became daily bolder, and more lax in training,
and his influence upon several of the boys grew stronger. And when Dean,
Schoonover, and Duncan appeared to be joining the clique, Ken decided he
would have to talk to some one, so he went up to see Ray and Homans.
The sprinter was alone, sitting by his lamp, with books and notes spread
before him.
"Hello, Peg! come in. You look a little glum. What's wrong?"
Reddy Ray seemed like an elder brother to Ken, and he found himself
blurting out his trouble. Ray looked thoughtful, and after a moment
he replied in his quiet way:
"Peg, it's new to you, but it's an old story to me. The track and crew
men seldom break training, which is more than can be said of the other
athletes. It seems to me baseball fellows are the most careless. They
really don't have to train so conscientiously. It's only a kind of form."
"But it's different this year," burst out Ken. "You know what Worry said,
and how he trusts us."
"You're right, Peg, only you mustn't take it so hard. Things will work
out all right. Homans and I were talking about that to-day. You see,
Worry wants the boys to elect a captain soon. But perhaps he has not
confided in you youngsters. He will suggest that you elect Homans or
me. Well, I won't run for the place, so it'll be Homans. He's the man
to captain us, that's certain. Graves thinks, though, that he can pull
the wires and be elected captain. He's way off. Besides, Peg, he's
making a big mistake. Worry doesn't like him, and when he finds out
about this break in training we'll have a new third-baseman. No doubt
Blake will play the bag. Graves is the only drag in Worry's baseball
machine now, and he'll not last.... So, Peg, don't think any more about
it. Mind you, the whole team circles round you. You're the pivot, and
as sure as you're born you'll be Wayne's captain next year. That's
something for you to keep in mind and work for. If Graves keeps after
you--hand him one! That's not against rules. Punch him! If Worry knew
the truth he would pat you on the back for slugging Graves. Cheer up,
Peg! Even if Graves has got all the kids on his side, which I doubt,
Homans and I are with you. And you can just bet that Worry Arthurs will
side with us.... Now run along, for I must study."
This conversation was most illuminating to Ken. He left Reddy's room
all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's
quiet praise and advice. To make such a friend was worth losing a hundred
friends like Graves. He dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from
mind, and believed Reddy as he had believed Arthurs. But Ken thought much
of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college
baseball team. He had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming
captain of Wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more
of that.
The day dawned for Ken to go to Washington, and he was so perturbed at
his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game Wayne
had to play in his absence. Arthurs intended to pitch Schoonover in that
game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. The coach went to the station
with Ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the
train. Certainly there was no more important personage on board that
Washington Limited than Ken Ward. In fact, Ken was so full of importance
and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride
in his being chosen to "size up" the great college teams and fearful
conjecture as to his ability.
At any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was
on the Georgetown field. It was lucky that he arrived early and got
a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in
attendance when the players came on the diamond. The noisy bleachers,
the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright
gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave Ken pleasurable consciousness
of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. At Wayne he had
pitched to empty seats. Remembering Worry's prophecy, however, he
was content to wait.
From that moment his duty absorbed him. He found it exceedingly
fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility.
Not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and
strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have
pitched to them with what was actually pitched. Of course, he had no
test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the better
of it. Watching so closely, Ken had forced home to him Arthurs' repeated
assertion that control of the ball made a pitcher. Both pitchers in this
game were wild. Locating the plate with them was more a matter of luck
than ability. The Herne pitcher kept wasting balls and getting himself
in the hole, and then the heavy Georgetown players would know when he
had to throw a strike, if he could, and accordingly they hit hard.
They beat Herne badly.
The next day in the game with Place it was a different story. Ken
realized he was watching a great team. They reminded him of Dale's
varsity, though they did not play that fiendish right-field-hitting
game. Ken had a numbness come over him at the idea of facing this
Place team. It soon passed, for they had their vulnerable places.
It was not so much that they hit hard on speed and curves, for they
got them where they wanted them. Keene flied out on high fast balls
over the inside corner; Starke bit on low drops; Martin was weak on
a slow ball; MacNeff, the captain, could not touch speed under his
chin, and he always struck at it. On the other hand, he killed a low
ball. Prince was the only man who, in Ken's judgment, seemed to have
no weakness. These men represented the batting strength of Place, and
Ken, though he did not in the least underestimate them, had no fear.
He would have liked to pitch against them right there.
"It's all in control of the ball," thought Ken. "Here are seventeen
bases on balls in two games--four pitchers. They're wild.... But
suppose I got wild, too?"
The idea made Ken shiver.
He travelled all night, sleeping on the train, and got home to the
training-house about nine the next morning. Worry was out, Scotty said,
and the boys had all gone over to college. Ken went up-stairs and found
Raymond in bed.
"Why, Kel, what's the matter?" asked Ken.
"I'm sick," replied Kel. He was pale and appeared to be in distress.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Can't I do something? Get you some medicine? Call Murray?"
"Ken, don't call anybody, unless you want to see me disgraced. Worry
got out this morning before he noticed my absence from breakfast. I was
scared to death."
"Scared? Disgraced?"
"Ken, I drank a little last night. It always makes me sick. You know
I've a weak stomach."
"Kel, you didn't drink, _say_ you didn't!" implored Ken, sitting
miserably down on the bed.
"Yes, I did. I believe I was half drunk. I can't stand anything.
I'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. And I hate Graves."
Ken jumped up with kindling eyes.
"Kel, you've gone back on me--we'd started to be such friends--I tried
to persuade you--"
"I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was--you know
how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!"
"Tell him," said Ken, quickly.
"What?" groaned Kel, in fright.
"Tell him. Let me tell him for you."
"No--no--no. He'd fire me off the team, and I couldn't stand that."
"I'll bet Worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. Maybe he knows
more than you think."
"I'm afraid to tell him, Ken. I just can't tell him."
"But you gave your word of honor not to break training. The only
thing left is to confess."
"I won't tell, Ken. It's not so much my own place on the team--there
are the other fellows."
Ken saw that it was no use to argue with Raymond while he was so sick
and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make
him comfortable. Raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he
awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better.
"I won't be able to practise to-day," he said; "but I'll go down to lunch."
As he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling
up the stairs.
Graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste.
"How're you feeling?" he asked.
"Pretty rocky. Graves--I told Ward about it," said Raymond.
Upon his hurried entrance Graves had not observed Ken.