Raymond looked at him, but made no reply.
"Ward, I suppose you'll squeal," said Graves, sneeringly. "That'll
about be your speed."
Ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent.
"You sissy!" cried Graves, hotly. "Will you peach on us to Arthurs?"
"No. But if you don't get out of my room I'll hand you one,"
replied Ken, his voice growing thick.
Graves's face became red as fire.
"What? Why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! I've been aching
to punch you!"
"Well, why don't you commence?"
With the first retort Ken had felt a hot trembling go over him,
and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened.
"Ken--Graves," pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. "Don't--please!"
He turned from one to the other. "Don't scrap!"
"Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it,"
said Ken, passionately. "You've been after me all season, but I
wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the
other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball
team. You are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college
spirit means. You're a mucker!"
"I'll lick you for that!" raved Graves, shaking his fists.
"You can't lick me!"
"Come outdoors. I dare you to come outdoors. I dare you!"
Ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. "Come on!"
he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. Graves hesitated a
moment, then followed.
Raymond suddenly called after them:
"Give it to him, Ken! Slug him! Beat him all up!"
XIII
FRIENDSHIP
A half-hour or less afterward Ken entered the training-house. It chanced
that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the
hall to the dining-room, and with them was Worry Arthurs.
"Hello! you back? What's the matter with you?" demanded the coach.
Ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. Sundry
red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. His eyes
were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow.
"You've been in a scrap," declared Worry.
"I know it," said Ken. "Let me go up and wash."
Worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of Ken.
The boys stood silent and aghast. Suddenly there came thumps upon the
stairs, and Raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. He
dodged under Worry's arm and plunged at Ken to hold him with both hands.
"Ken! You're all bloody!" he exclaimed, in great excitement. "He didn't
lick you? Say he didn't! He's got to fight me, too! You're all bunged up!"
"Wait till you see him!" muttered Ken.
"A-huh!" said Worry. "Been scrappin' with Graves! What for?"
"It's a personal matter," replied Ken.
"Come, no monkey-biz with me," said the coach, sharply. "Out with it!"
There was a moment's silence.
"Mr. Arthurs, it's my fault," burst out Raymond, flushed and eager.
"Ken was fighting on my account."
"It wasn't anything of the kind," retorted Ken, vehemently.
"Yes it was," cried Raymond, "and I'm going to tell why."
The hall door opened to admit Graves. He was dishevelled, dirty,
battered, and covered with blood. When he saw the group in the hall
he made as if to dodge out.
"Here, come on! Take your medicine," called Worry, tersely.
Graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow
from his usual vaunting self.
"Now, Raymond, what's this all about?" demanded Worry.
Raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant.
"Ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. I told him I had
been half drunk last night--and that Graves had gotten me to drink.
Then Graves came in. He and Ken had hard words. They went outdoors
to fight."
"Would you have told me?" roared the coach in fury. "Would you have
come to me with this if I hadn't caught Peg?"
Raymond faced him without flinching.
"At first I thought not--when Ken begged me to confess I just couldn't.
But now I know I would."
At that Worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken
Graves.
"Mebbe it'll surprise you, Graves, to learn that I knew a little of
what you've been doin'. I told Homans to go to you in a quiet way and
tip off your mistake. I hoped you'd see it. But you didn't. Then
you've been knockin' Ward all season, for no reason I could discover
but jealousy. Now, listen! Peg Ward has done a lot for me already this
year, and he'll do more. But even if he beats Place, it won't mean any
more to me than the beatin' he's given you. Now, you pack your things
and get out of here. There's no position for you on this varsity."
Without a word in reply and amid intense silence Graves went slowly
up-stairs. When he disappeared Worry sank into a chair, and looked as
if he was about to collapse. Little Trace walked hesitatingly forward
with the manner of one propelled against his will.
"Mr. Arthurs, I--I," he stammered--"I'm guilty, too. I broke training.
I want to--"
The coach waved him back. "I don't want to hear it, not another
word--from anybody. It's made me sick. I can't stand any more.
Only I see I've got to change my rules. There won't be any rules
any more. You can all do as you like. I'd rather have you all go
stale than practise deceit on me. I cut out the trainin' rules."
"_No!_" The team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach.
"Worry, we won't stand for that," spoke up Reddy Ray. His smooth, cool
voice was like oil on troubled waters. "I think Homans and I can answer
for the kids from now on. Graves was a disorganizer--that's the least
I'll say of him. We'll elect Homans captain of the team, and then we'll
cut loose like a lot of demons. It's been a long, hard drill for you,
Worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. We've
been a kind of misfit team all spring. You've had a blind faith that
something could be made out of us. Homans has waked up to our hidden
strength. And I go further than that. I've played ball for years. I
know the game. I held down left field for two seasons on the greatest
college team ever developed out West. That's new to you. Well, it gives
me license to talk a little. I want to tell you that I can _feel_ what's
in this team. It's like the feeling I have when I'm running against a
fast man in the sprints. From now on we'll be a family of brothers with
one idea. And that'll be to play Place off their feet."
Coach Arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life.
Likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell
of a powerful stimulus. The sprinter's words struck fire from
all present.
Homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. "Boys! One rousing cheer
for Worry Arthurs and for Wayne!"
Lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar.
It was strange and significant at that moment to see Graves, white-faced
and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the
door. It was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him.
Arthurs and Homans and Ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson
to the young players.
Dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room.
"Mr. Arthurs, I done call yo' all. Lunch is sho' gittin' cold."
That afternoon Wayne played the strong Hornell University nine.
Blake, new at third base for Wayne, was a revelation. He was all legs
and arms. Weir accepted eight chances. Raymond, sick or not, was all
over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. To
McCord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. Trace caught
a foul fly right off the bleachers. Homans fielded with as much speed
as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. Besides, he made
four hits and four runs. Reddy Ray drove one ball into the bleachers,
and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that
Murray said was wonderful. Dean stood up valiantly to his battering,
and for the first game had no passed balls. And Ken Ward whirled
tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over
the plate. He made the Hornell players hit; he had no need to extend
himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced
the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only
two safe hits. All through the game Worry Arthurs sat on the bench
without giving an order or a sign. His worried look had vanished with
the crude playing of his team.
That night the Hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable
ability, was entertained at Carlton Club by Wayne friends, and he
expressed himself forcibly: "We came over to beat Wayne's weak team.
It'll be some time till we discover what happened. Young Ward has the
most magnificent control and speed. He's absolutely relentless. And
that frog-legged second-baseman--oh, say, can't he cover ground! Homans
is an all-round star. Then, your red-headed Ray, the sprinter--he's a
marvel. Ward, Homans, Ray--they're demons, and they're making demons
of the kids. I can't understand why Wayne students don't support their
team. It's strange."
What the Hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club,
and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to
dormitory, and thus over all the university.
"Boys, the college is wakin' up," said Worry, rubbing his hands.
"Yesterday's game jarred 'em. They can't believe their own ears. Why,
Hornell almost beat Dale's team last spring. Now, kids, look out. We'll
stand for no fussin' over us. We don't want any jollyin'. We've waited
long for encouragement. It didn't come, and now we'll play out the
string alone. There'll be a rush to Grant Field. It cuts no ice with
us. Let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the
spring. We'll show 'em a few things. We'll make 'em speechless. We'll
make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. We'll repay all their
slights by beatin' Place."
Worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that Ken was a pitcher.
"One more word, boys," he went on. "Keep together now. Run back here to
your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. Be civil when you are
approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. Keep to yourselves.
Your reward is comin'. It'll be great. Only wait!"
And that was the last touch of fire which moulded Worry's players into
a family of brothers. Close and warm and fine was the culmination of
their friendship. On the field they were dominated by one impulse,
almost savage in its intensity. When they were off the field the
springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun.
In the mornings when the mail-man came there was always a wild scramble
for letters. And it developed that Weir received more than his share.
He got mail every day, and his good-fortune could not escape the lynx
eyes of his comrades. Nor could the size and shape of the envelope and
the neat, small handwriting fail to be noticed. Weir always stole off
by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of
tantalizing remarks.
"Oh! Sugar!"
"Dreamy Eyes!"
"Gawge, the pink letter has come!"
Weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of Puff.
One morning, for some unaccountable reason, Weir did not get down-stairs
when the mail arrived. Duncan got the pink letter, scrutinized the writing
closely, and put the letter in his coat. Presently Weir came bustling down.
"Who's got the mail?" he asked, quickly.
"No letters this morning," replied some one.
"Is this Sunday?" asked Weir, rather stupidly.
"Nope. I meant no letters for you."
Weir looked blank, then stunned, then crestfallen. Duncan handed out the
pink envelope. The boys roared, and Weir strode off in high dudgeon.
That day Duncan purchased a box of pink envelopes, and being expert with
a pen, he imitated the neat handwriting and addressed pink envelopes to
every boy in the training-house. Next morning no one except Weir seemed
in a hurry to answer the postman's ring. He came in with the letters and
his jaw dropping. It so happened that his letter was the very last one,
and when he got to it the truth flashed over him. Then the peculiar
appropriateness of the nickname Puff was plainly manifest. One by one
the boys slid off their chairs to the floor, and at last Weir had to
join in the laugh on him.
Each of the boys in turn became the victim of some prank. Raymond
betrayed Ken's abhorrence of any kind of perfume, and straightway
there was a stealthy colloquy. Cheap perfume of a most penetrating
and paralyzing odor was liberally purchased. In Ken's absence from
his room all the clothing that he did not have on his back was
saturated. Then the conspirators waited for him to come up the
stoop, and from their hiding-place in a window of the second floor
they dropped an extra quart upon him.
Ken vowed vengeance that would satisfy him thrice over, and he bided
his time until he learned who had perpetrated the outrage.
One day after practice his opportunity came. Raymond, Weir, and Trace,
the guilty ones, went with Ken to the training quarters to take the
steam bath that Murray insisted upon at least once every week. It so
turned out that the four were the only players there that afternoon.
While the others were undressing, Ken bribed Scotty to go out on an
errand, and he let Murray into his scheme. Now, Murray not only had
acquired a strong liking for Ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke.
"All I want to know," whispered Ken, "is if I might stew them too
much--really scald them, you know?"
"No danger," whispered Murray. "That'll be the fun of it. You can't
hurt them. But they'll think they're dying."
He hustled Raymond, Weir, and Trace into the tanks and fastened the lids,
and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam.
"Lots of stew to-day," he said, turning the handles. "Hello! Where's
Scotty?... Peg, will you watch these boys a minute while I step out?"
"You bet I will," called Ken to the already disappearing Murray.
The three cooped-in boys looked askance at Ken.
"Wull, I'm not much stuck--" Raymond began glibly enough, and then,
becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to Ken, he
swallowed his tongue.
"What'd you say?" asked Ken, pretending curiosity. Suddenly he began
to jump up and down. "Oh, my! Hullabelee! Schoodoorady! What a chance!
You gave it away!"
"Look what he's doing!" yelled Trace.
"Hyar!" added Weir.
"Keep away from those pipes!" chimed in Raymond.
"Boys, I've been laying for you, but I never thought I'd get a chance
like this. If Murray only stays out three minutes--just three minutes!"
"Three minutes! You idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?"
asked Weir, in alarm.
"Oh no, not at all.... Puff, I think you can stand a little more steam."
Ken turned the handle on full.
"Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch."
To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle.
"Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!"
The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and
their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then
did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room.
"Here, let me out! Ken, you know how delicate I am," implored Raymond.
"I couldn't entertain the idea for a second," replied Ken.
"I'll lick you!" yelled Raymond.
"My lad, you've got a brain-storm," returned Ken, in grieved tones.
"Not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said
anything so impossible as that."
"Ken, dear Ken, dear old Peggie," cried Trace, "you know I've got a
skinned place on my hip where I slid yesterday. Steam isn't good for
that, Worry says. He'll be sore. You must let me out."
"I intend to see, Willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over,"
replied Ken.
"Open this lid! At once!" roared Weir, in sudden anger. His big
eyes rolled.
"Bah!" taunted Ken.
Then all three began to roar at Ken at once. "Brute! Devil!
Help! Help! Help! We'll fix you for this!... It's hotter!
it's fire! Aghh! Ouch! Oh! Ah-h-h!... O-o-o-o!... Murder! MURDER-R!"
At this juncture Murray ran in.
"What on earth! Peg, what did you do?"
"I only turned on the steam full tilt," replied Ken, innocently.
"Why, you shouldn't have done that," said Murray, in pained astonishment.
"Stop talking about it! Let me out!" shrieked Raymond.
Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room.
XIV
THE HERNE GAME
On the morning of the first of June, the day scheduled for the opening
game with Herne, Worry Arthurs had Ken Ward closeted with Homans and
Reddy Ray. Worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard
to the outcome of the game. He was always trying to impress Ken with the
uncertainty of baseball. But a much younger and less observing boy than
Ken could have seen through the coach. Worry was dead sure of the result,
certain that the day would see a great gathering of Wayne students, and
he could not hide his happiness. And the more he betrayed himself the
more he growled at Ken.
"Well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?"
he demanded. "Here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't
been up in the air yet. I tell you it ain't right."
"But, Worry, I couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please
you, could I?" implored Ken. To Ken this strain of the coach's had grown
to be as serious as it was funny.
"Aw! talk sense," said Worry. "Why, you haven't pitched to a college
crowd yet. Wait! Wait till you see that crowd over to Place next week!
Thousands of students crazier 'n Indians, and a flock of girls that'll
make you bite your tongue off. Ten thousand yellin' all at once."
"Let them yell," replied Ken; "I'm aching to pitch before a crowd.
It has been pretty lonesome at Grant Field all season."
"Let 'em yell, eh?" retorted Worry. "All right, my boy, it's comin' to
you. And if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't
come to me for sympathy."
"I wouldn't. I can take a licking. Why, Worry, you talk as if--as if I'd
done something terrible. What's the matter with me? I've done every single
thing you wanted--just as well as I could do it. What are you afraid of?"
"You're gettin' swelled on yourself," said the coach, deliberately.
The blood rushed to Ken's face until it was scarlet. He was so astounded
and hurt that he could not speak. Worry looked at him once, then turning
hastily away, he walked to the window.
"Peg, it ain't much wonder," he went on, smoothly, "and I'm not holdin'
it against you. But I want you to forget yourself--"
"I've never had a thought of myself," retorted Ken, hotly.
"I want you to go in to-day like--like an automatic machine," went
on Worry, as if Ken had not spoken. "There'll be a crowd out, the
first of the season. Mebbe they'll throw a fit. Anyway, it's our first
big game. As far as the university goes, this is our trial. The students
are up in the air; they don't know what to think. Mebbe there won't be
a cheer at first.... But, Peg, if we beat Herne to-day they'll tear down
the bleachers."
"Well, all I've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the
bleachers--because we're going to win," replied Ken, with a smouldering
fire in his eyes.
"There you go again! If you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much
confidence. You won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe.
Listen! The Herne players got into town last night, and some of them
talked a little. It's just as well you didn't see the morning papers.
It came to me straight that Gallagher, the captain, and Stern, the
first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a
little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. They expect you
to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg,
but you're so--"
"They said that, did they?" cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek
and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled
like a shaking leaf. "What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled!
Explode! Stand the gaff! Look here, Worry, maybe it's true, but I don't
believe it.... _I'll beat this Herne team!_ Do you get that?"
"Now you're talkin'," replied Worry, with an entire change of manner.
"You saw the Herne bunch play. They can field, but how about hittin'?"
"Gallagher, Stern, Hill, and Burr are the veterans of last year's varsity,"
went on Ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. "They can hit--if they
get what they like."
"Now you're talkin'. How about Gallagher?"
"He hits speed. He couldn't hit a slow ball with a paddle."
"Now you're talkin'. There's Stern, how'd you size him?"
"He's weak on a low curve, in or out, or a drop."
"Peg, you're talkin' some now. How about Hill?"
"Hill is a bunter. A high ball in close, speedy, would tie him in a knot."
"Come on, hurry! There's Burr."
"Burr's the best of the lot, a good waiter and hard hitter, but he
invariably hits a high curve up in the air."
"All right. So far so good. How about the rest of the team?"
"I'll hand them up a straight, easy ball and let them hit. I tell you
I've got Herne beaten, and if Gallagher or any one else begins to guy
me I'll laugh in his face."
"Oh, you will?... Say, you go down to your room now, and stay there till
time for lunch. Study or read. Don't think another minute about this game."
Ken strode soberly out of the room.
It was well for Ken that he did not see what happened immediately after
his exit. Worry and Homans fell into each other's arms.
"Say, fellows, how I hated to do it!" Worry choked with laughter and
contrition. "It was the hardest task I ever had. But, Cap, you know we
had to make Peg sore. He's too blamed good-natured. Oh, but didn't he
take fire! He'll make some of those Herne guys play low-bridge to-day.
Wouldn't it be great if he gave Gallagher the laugh?"
"Worry, don't you worry about that," said Homans. "And it would
please me, too, for Gallagher is about as wordy and pompous as any
captain I've seen."
"I think you were a little hard on Ken," put in Reddy. His quiet voice
drew Worry and Homans from their elation. "Of course, it was necessary
to rouse Ken's fighting blood, but you didn't choose the right way.
You hurt his feelings. You know, Worry, that the boy is not in the
least swelled."
"'Course I know it, Reddy. Why, Peg's too modest. But I want him to
be dead in earnest to-day. Mind you, I'm thinkin' of Place. He'll beat
Herne to a standstill. I worked on his feelin's just to get him all
stirred up. You know there's always the chance of rattles in any young
player, especially a pitcher. If he's mad he won't be so likely to get
'em. So I hurt his feelin's. I'll make it up to him, don't you fear
for that, Reddy."
"I wish you had waited till we go over to Place next week," replied Ray.
"You can't treat him that way twice. Over there's where I would look for
his weakening. But it may be he won't ever weaken. If he ever does it'll
be because of the crowd and not the players."
"I think so, too. A yellin' mob will be new to Peg. But, fellows,
I'm only askin' one game from Herne and one, or a good close game,
from Place. That'll give Wayne the best record ever made. Look at
our standin' now. Why, the newspapers are havin' a fit. Since I
picked the varsity we haven't lost a game. Think of that! Those
early games don't count. We've had an unbroken string of victories,
Peg pitchin' twelve, and Schoonover four. And if wet grounds and
other things hadn't cancelled other games we'd have won more."
"Yes, we're in the stretch now, Worry, and running strong. We'll
win three out of these four big games," rejoined Reddy.
"Oh, say, that'd be too much! I couldn't stand it! Oh, say, Cap, don't
you think Reddy, for once, is talkin' about as swift as he sprints?"
"I'm afraid to tell you, Worry," replied Homans, earnestly. "When I
look back at our work I can't realize it. But it's time to wake up.
The students over at college are waking up. They will be out to-day.
You are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. We keep
on making runs. It's runs that count. I think, honestly, Worry, that
after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors. And I hold
my breath when I tell you."
It was remarkably quiet about the training-house all that morning. The
coach sent a light lunch to the boys in their rooms. They had orders to
be dressed, and to report in the reading-room at one-thirty.
Raymond came down promptly on time.
"Where's Peg?" asked Worry.
"Why, I thought he was here, ahead of me," replied Raymond,
in surprise.