in which the boys went over certain plays. During the evening many
visitors called, but did not gain admission. The next morning, however,
Worry himself brought in the newspapers, which heretofore he had
forbidden the players to read, and he told them they were now free
to have any callers or to go where they liked. There was a merry
scramble for the papers, and presently the reading-room was as quiet
as a church.
The account that held Ken Ward in rapt perusal was the _Morning
Times-Star's_. At first the print blurred in Ken's sight. Then he
read it over again. He liked the glowing praise given the team,
and was shamefully conscious of the delight in his name in large
letters. A third time he read it, guiltily this time, for he did
not dream that his comrades were engrossed in like indulgence.
WAYNE OUTCLASSES HERNE
ARTHURS DEVELOPS ANOTHER GREAT TEAM.
PEGGIE WARD AND REDDY RAY STARS.
Wayne defeated Herne yesterday 14 to 4, and thereby
leaped into the limelight. It was a surprise to
every one, Herne most of all. Owing to the stringent
eligibility rules now in force at Wayne, and the
barring of the old varsity, nothing was expected of
this season's team. Arthurs, the famous coach, has
built a wonderful nine out of green material, and
again establishes the advisability of professional
coaches for the big universities.
With one or two exceptions Wayne's varsity is made
up of players developed this year. Homans, the
captain, was well known about town as an amateur
player of ability. But Arthurs has made him into
a great field captain and a base-getter of remarkable
skill. An unofficial computing gives him the batting
average of .536. No captain or any other player of
any big college team in the East ever approached
such percentage as that. It is so high that it must
be a mistake.
Reddy Ray, the intercollegiate champion in the sprints,
is the other seasoned player of the varsity, and it is
safe to say that he is the star of all the college
teams. A wonderful fielder, a sure and heavy hitter,
and like a flash on the bases, he alone makes Homans'
team formidable.
Then there is Peg Ward, Worry Arthurs' demon pitcher,
of freshman bowl-fight fame. This lad has been arriving
since spring, and now he has arrived. He is powerful,
and has a great arm. He seems to pitch without effort,
has twice the speed of Dale, and is as cool in the box
as a veteran. But it is his marvellous control of the
ball that puts him in a class by himself. In the fourth
inning of yesterday's game he extended himself, probably
on orders from Coach Arthurs, and struck out Herne's
three best hitters on eleven pitched balls. Then he
was taken out and Schoonover put in. This white-headed
lad is no slouch of a pitcher, by-the-way. But it must
have been a bitter pill for Herne to swallow. The proud
Herne varsity have been used to knocking pitchers out
of the box, instead of seeing them removed because
they were too good. Also, MacNeff and Prince, of Place,
who saw the game, must have had food for reflection.
They did not get much of a line on young Ward, and
what they saw will not give them pleasant dreams.
We pick Ward to beat the heavy-hitting Place team.
Other youngsters of Arthurs' nine show up well,
particularly Raymond and Weir, who have springs in
their feet and arms like whips. Altogether Arthurs'
varsity is a strangely assorted, a wonderfully chosen
group of players. We might liken them to the mechanism
of a fine watch, with Ward as the mainspring, and
the others with big or little parts to perform, but
each dependent upon the other. Wayne's greatest
baseball team!
Ken read it all thirstily, wonderingly, and recorded it deep in the
deepest well of his memory. It seemed a hundred times as sweet for all
the misery and longing and fear and toil which it had cost to gain.
And each succeeding day grew fuller and richer with its meed of reward.
All the boys of the varsity were sought by the students, Ken most of all.
Everywhere he went he was greeted with a regard that made him still more
bashful and ashamed. If he stepped into Carlton Club, it was to be
surrounded by a frankly admiring circle of students. He could not get
a moment alone in the library. Professors had a smile for him and often
stopped to chat. The proudest moment of his college year was when
President Halstead met him in the promenade, and before hundreds of
students turned to walk a little way with him. There seemed not to be
a single student of the university or any one connected with it, who did
not recognize him. Bryan took him to watch the crew practise; Stevens
played billiards with him at the club; Dale openly sought his society.
Then the fraternities began to vie with one another for Ken. In all his
life he had not imagined a fellow could be treated so well. It was an
open secret that Ken Ward was extremely desired in the best fraternities.
He could not have counted his friends. Through it all, by thinking of
Worry and the big games coming, he managed to stay on his feet.
One morning, when he was at the height of this enjoyable popularity,
he read a baseball note that set him to thinking hard. The newspaper,
commenting on the splendid results following Wayne's new athletic
rules, interpreted one rule in a way astounding to Ken. It was
something to the effect that all players who had been _on_ a team
which paid any player or any expenses of any player were therefore
ineligible. Interpretation of the rules had never been of any serious
moment to Ken. He had never played on any but boy teams. But suddenly
he remembered that during a visit to the mountains with his mother he
had gone to a place called Eagle's Nest, a summer hotel colony. It
boasted of a good ball team and had a rival in the Glenwoods, a team
from an adjoining resort. Ken had been in the habit of chasing flies
for the players in practice. One day Eagle's Nest journeyed over to
Glenwood to play, and being short one player they took Ken to fill in.
He had scarcely started in the game when the regular player appeared,
thus relieving him. The incident had completely slipped Ken's mind
until recalled by the newspaper note.
Whereupon Ken began to ponder. He scouted the idea of that innocent
little thing endangering his eligibility at Wayne. But the rule,
thus made clear, stood out in startlingly black-and-white relief.
Eagle's Nest supported a team by subscription among the hotel guests.
Ken had ridden ten miles in a 'bus with the team, and had worn one
of the uniforms for some few minutes. Therefore, upon a technicality,
perhaps, he had been _on_ a summer nine, and had no right to play for
Wayne.
Ken went to Homans and told him the circumstance. The captain looked
exceedingly grave, then getting more particulars he relaxed.
"You're safe, Peg. You're perfectly innocent. But don't mention it to
any one else, especially Worry. He'd have a fit. What a scare you'd
throw into the varsity camp! Forget the few minutes you wore that
Eagle's Nest suit."
For the time being this reassured Ken, but after a while his anxiety
returned. Homans had said not to mention it, and that bothered Ken.
He lay awake half of one night thinking about the thing. It angered
him and pricked his conscience and roused him. He wanted to feel
absolutely sure of his position, for his own sake first of all.
So next morning he cornered Worry and blurted out the secret.
"Peg, what're you givin' me!" he ejaculated.
Ken repeated his story, somewhat more clearly and at greater length.
Worry turned as white as a ghost.
"Good gracious, Peg, you haven't told anybody?"
"No one but Homans."
Worry gave a long sigh of relief, and his face regained some of its
usual florid color.
"Well, that's all right then.... Say, didn't I tell you once that I
had a weak heart? Peg, of course you're an amateur, or there never was
one. But 'em fat-head directors! Why, I wouldn't have 'em find that
out for a million dollars. They're idiots enough to make a shinin'
example of you right before the Place games. Keep it under your
hat, see!"
This last was in the nature of a command, and Ken had always
religiously obeyed Worry. He went to his room feeling that the
matter had been decided for him. Relief, however, did not long
abide with him. He began to be torn between loyalty to Worry and
duty to himself. He felt guiltless, but he was not sure of it,
and until he was sure he could not be free in mind. Suddenly he
thought of being actually barred from the varsity, and was miserable.
That he could not bear. Strong temptation now assailed Ken and found
him weak. A hundred times he reconciled himself to Worry's command,
to Homan's point of view, yet every time something rose within him and
rebelled. But despite the rebellion Ken almost gave in. He fought off
thought of his new sweet popularity, of the glory of being Wayne's
athletic star. He fought to look the thing fairly in the face. To him
it loomed up a hundredfold larger than an incident of his baseball
career. And so he got strength to do the thing that would ease the
voice of conscience. He went straight to the coach.
"Worry, I've got to go to the directors and tell them. I--I'm sorry,
but I've got to do it."
He expected a storm of rage from Worry, but never had the coach been
so suave, so kindly, so magnetic. He called Homans and Raymond and
Weir and others who were in the house at the moment and stated Ken's
case. His speech flowed smooth and rapid. The matter under his deft
argument lost serious proportions. But it seemed to Ken that Worry
did not tell the boys the whole truth, or they would not have laughed
at the thing and made him out over-sensitive. And Ken was now growing
too discouraged and bewildered to tell them. Moreover, he was getting
stubborn. The thing was far from a joke. The cunning of the coach
proved that. Worry wound the boys round his little finger.
At this juncture Reddy Ray entered the training-house.
More than once Ken had gone to the great sprinter with confidences
and troubles, and now he began impulsively, hurriedly, incoherently,
to tell the story.
"And Reddy," concluded Ken, "I've got to tell the directors. It's
something--hard for me to explain. I couldn't pitch another game
with this hanging over me. I must--tell them--and take my medicine."
"Sure. It's a matter of principle," replied Reddy, in his soft, slow
voice. His keen eyes left Ken's pale face and met the coach's. "Worry,
I'll take Peg up to see the athletic faculty. I know Andrews, the
president, and he's the one to hear Peg's story."
Worry groaned and sank into a chair crushed and beaten. Then he swore,
something unusual in him. Then he began to rave at the fat-headed
directors. Then he yelled that he would never coach another ball team
so long as he lived.
Ken followed Reddy out of the training-house and along the street.
The fact that the sprinter did not say a word showed Ken he was
understood, and he felt immeasurably grateful. They crossed the
campus and entered College Hall, to climb the winding stairway.
To Ken that was a long, hateful climb. Andrews, and another of the
directors whom Ken knew by sight, were in the office. They greeted
the visitors with cordial warmth.
"Gentlemen," began Reddy, "Ward thinks he has violated one of the
eligibility rules."
There was no beating about the bush with Reddy Ray, no shading of fact,
no distortion of the truth. Coolly he stated the case. But, strangely
to Ken, the very truth, told by Reddy in this way, somehow lost its
terrors. Ken's shoulders seemed unburdened of a terrible weight.
Andrews and his colleague laughed heartily.
"You see--I--I forgot all about it," said Ken.
"Yes, and since he remembered he's been worrying himself sick,"
resumed Reddy. "Couldn't rest till he'd come over here."
"Ward, it's much to your credit that you should confide something
there was never any chance of becoming known," said the president
of the athletic faculty. "We appreciate it. You may relieve your
mind of misgivings as to your eligibility. Even if we tried I doubt
if we could twist a rule to affect your standing. And you may rest
assured we wouldn't try in the case of so fine a young fellow and
so splendid a pitcher for Wayne."
Then Andrews courteously shook hands with Ken and Reddy and bowed
them out. Ken danced half-way down the stairway and slid the rest
on the bannister.
"Reddy, wasn't he just fine?" cried Ken, all palpitating with joy.
"Well, Peg, Andrews is a nice old thing if you approach him right,"
replied Reddy, dryly. "You wouldn't believe me, would you, if I said
I had my heart in my throat when we went in?"
"No, I wouldn't," replied Ken, bluntly.
"I thought not," said Reddy. Then the gravity that had suddenly
perplexed Ken cleared from the sprinter's face. "Peg, let's have
some fun with Worry and the boys."
"I'm in for anything now."
"We'll go back to the training-house with long faces. When we get in
you run up-stairs as if you couldn't face any one, but be sure to sneak
back to the head of the stairs to see and hear the fun. I'll fix Worry
all right. Now, don't flunk. It's a chance."
Ken could not manage to keep a straight face as they went in, so he hid
it and rushed up-stairs. He bumped into Raymond, knocking him flat.
"Running to a fire again?" growled Raymond. "Got a fire-medal, haven't
you? Always falling over people."
Ken tried to simulate ungovernable rage and impotent distress at once.
He waved one fist and tore his hair with the other hand.
"Get out of my way!" roared Ken. "What'll you say when I tell you I'm
barred from the varsity!"
"Oh! Ken! No, no--don't say it," faltered Raymond, all sympathy in
an instant.
Ken ran into his room, closed the door and then peeped out. He saw
Raymond slowly sag down-stairs as if his heart was broken. Then Ken
slipped out and crawled down the hall till he could see into the
reading-room. All the boys were there, with anxious faces, crowded
round the coach. Worry was livid. Reddy Ray seemed the only calm
person in the room and he had tragedy written all over him.
"Out with it!" shouted Worry. "Don't stand there like a mournful
preacher. What did 'em fat-heads say?"
Reddy threw up his hands with a significant gesture.
"I knew it!" howled Worry, jumping up and down. "I knew it! Why did
you take the kid over there? Why didn't you let me and Homans handle
this thing? You red-headed, iron-jawed, cold-blooded wind-chaser!
You've done it now, haven't you? I--Oh--"
Worry began to flounder helplessly.
"They said a few more things," went on Reddy. "Peg is barred, Raymond
is barred, I am barred. I told them about my baseball career out West.
The directors said some pretty plain things about you, Worry, I'm sorry
to tell. You're a rotten coach. In fact, you ought to be a coach at an
undertaker's. Homans gets the credit for the work of the team. They
claim you are too hard on the boys, too exacting, too brutal, in fact.
Andrews recited a record of your taking sandwiches from us and aiding
and abetting Murray in our slow starvation. The directors will favor
your dismissal and urge the appointment of Professor Rhodes, who as
coach will at least feed us properly."
Reddy stopped to catch his breath and gain time for more invention. Of
all the unhappy mortals on earth Worry Arthurs looked the unhappiest.
He believed every word as if it had been gospel. And that about Professor
Rhodes was the last straw.
Ken could stand the deception no longer. He marvelled at Reddy's
consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on Worry's
face. Bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, Ken burst like a
bomb upon the sad-faced group.
"Oh, Worry, it's all a joke!"
XVI
THE FIRST PLACE GAME
Rain prevented the second Herne game, which was to have been played
on the Herne grounds. It rained steadily all day Friday and Saturday,
to the disappointment of Wayne's varsity. The coach, however, admitted
that he was satisfied to see the second contest with Herne go by the
board.
"I don't like big games away from home," said Worry. "It's hard on new
teams. Besides, we beat Herne to death over here. Mebbe we couldn't do
it over there, though I ain't doubtin'. But it's Place we're after, and
if we'd had that game at Herne we couldn't have kept Place from gettin'
a line on us. So I'm glad it rained."
The two Place games fell during a busy week at Wayne. Wednesday was the
beginning of the commencement exercises and only a comparatively few
students could make the trip to Place. But the night before the team
left, the students, four thousand strong, went to the training-house
and filled a half-hour with college songs and cheers.
Next morning Dale and Stevens, heading a small band of Wayne athletes
and graduates, met the team at the railroad station and boarded the
train with them. Worry and Homans welcomed them, and soon every Wayne
player had two or more for company. Either by accident or design, Ken
could not tell which, Dale and Stevens singled him out for their especial
charge. The football captain filled one seat with his huge bulk and faced
Ken, and Dale sat with a hand on Ken's shoulder.
"Peg, we're backing you for all we're worth," said Stevens. "But this is
your first big game away from home. It's really the toughest game of the
season. Place is a hard nut to crack any time. And her players on their
own backyard are scrappers who can take a lot of beating and still win
out. Then there's another thing that's no small factor in their strength:
They are idolized by the students, and rooting at Place is a science. They
have a yell that beats anything you ever heard. It'll paralyze a fellow
at a critical stage. But that yell is peculiar in that it rises out of
circumstances leading to almost certain victory. That is, Place has to
make a strong bid for a close, hard game to work up that yell. So if it
comes to-day you be ready for it. Have your ears stuffed with cotton,
and don't let that yell blow you up in the air."
Dale was even more earnest than Stevens.
"Peg, Place beat me over here last year, beat me 6-3. They hit me harder
than I ever was hit before, I guess. You went down to Washington, Worry
said, to look them over. Tell me what you think--how you sized them up."
Dale listened attentively while Ken recited his impressions.
"You've got Prince and MacNeff figured exactly right," replied Dale.
"Prince is the football captain, by-the-way. Be careful how you run
into second base. If you ever slide into him head first--good-bye!
He's a great player, and he can hit any kind of a ball. MacNeff now,
just as you said, is weak on a high ball close in, and he kills a low
ball. Kills is the word! He hits them a mile. But, Peg, I think you're
a little off on Keene, Starke, and Martin, the other Place cracks. They're
veterans, hard to pitch to; they make you cut the plate; they are as apt
to bunt as hit, and they are fast. They keep a fellow guessing. I think
Starke pulls a little on a curve, but the others have no weakness I ever
discovered. But, Peg, I expect you to do more with them than I did. My
control was never any too good, and you can throw almost as straight as
a fellow could shoot a rifle. Then your high fast ball, that one you
get with the long swing, it would beat any team. Only I'm wondering,
I'm asking--can you use it right along, in the face of such coaching
and yelling and hitting as you'll run against to-day? I'm asking
deliberately, because I want to give you confidence."
"Why, yes, Dale, I think I can. I'm pretty sure of it. That ball comes
easily, only a little longer swing and more snap, and honestly, Dale,
I hardly ever think about the plate. I know where it is, and I could
shut my eyes and throw strikes."
"Peg, you're a wonder," replied Dale, warmly. "If you can do that--and
hang me if I doubt it--you will make Place look like a lot of dubs. We're
sure to make a few runs. Homans and Ray will hit Salisbury hard. There's
no fence on Place Field, and every ball Reddy hits past a fielder will
be a home-run. You can gamble on that. So set a fast clip when you start
in, and hang."
Some time later, when Ken had changed seats and was talking to Raymond,
he heard Worry say to somebody:
"Well, if Peg don't explode to-day he never will. I almost wish he would.
He'd be better for it, afterward."
This surprised Ken, annoyed him, and straightway he became thoughtful.
Why this persistent harping on the chance of his getting excited from
one cause or another, losing his control and thereby the game? Ken had
not felt in the least nervous about the game. He would get so, presently,
if his advisers did not stop hinting. Then Worry's wish that he might
"explode" was puzzling. A little shade of gloom crept over the bright
horizon of Ken's hopes. Almost unconsciously vague doubts of himself
fastened upon him. For the first time he found himself looking forward
to a baseball game with less eagerness than uncertainty. Stubbornly he
fought off the mood.
Place was situated in an old college town famed for its ancient trees
and quaint churches and inns. The Wayne varsity, arriving late, put on
their uniforms at the St. George, a tavern that seemed never to have
been in any way acquainted with a college baseball team. It was very
quiet and apparently deserted. For that matter the town itself appeared
deserted. The boys dressed hurriedly, in silence, with frowning brows
and compressed lips. Worry Arthurs remained down-stairs while they
dressed. Homans looked the team over and then said:
"Boys, come on! To-day's our hardest game."
It was only a short walk along the shady street to the outskirts of
the town and the athletic field. The huge stands blocked the view
from the back and side. Homans led the team under the bleachers,
through a narrow walled-in aisle, to the side entrance, and there
gave the word for the varsity to run out upon the field. A hearty
roar of applause greeted their appearance.
Ken saw a beautiful green field, level as a floor, with a great
half-circle of stands and bleachers at one end. One glance was
sufficient to make Ken's breathing an effort. He saw a glittering
mass, a broad, moving band of color. Everywhere waved Place flags,
bright gold and blue. White faces gleamed like daisies on a golden
slope. In the bleachers close to the first base massed a shirt-sleeved
crowd of students, row on row of them, thousands in number. Ken
experienced a little chill as he attached the famous Place yell to
that significant placing of rooters. A soft breeze blew across the
field, and it carried low laughter and voices of girls, a merry hum,
and subdued murmur, and an occasional clear shout. The whole field
seemed keenly alive.
From the bench Ken turned curious, eager eyes upon the practising
Place men. Never had he regarded players with as sharp an interest,
curiosity being mingled with admiration, and confidence with doubt.
MacNeff, the captain, at first base, veteran of three years, was a
tall, powerful fellow, bold and decisive in action. Prince, Place's
star on both gridiron and diamond, played at second base. He was very
short, broad and heavy, and looked as if he would have made three of
little Raymond. Martin, at short-stop, was of slim, muscular build.
Keene and Starke, in centre and left, were big men. Salisbury looked
all of six feet, and every inch a pitcher. He also played end on the
football varsity. Ken had to indulge in a laugh at the contrast in
height and weight of Wayne when compared to Place. The laugh was good
for him, because it seemed to loosen something hard and tight within
his breast. Besides, Worry saw him laugh and looked pleased, and that
pleased Ken.
"Husky lot of stiffs, eh, Peg?" said Worry, reading Ken's thought.
"But, say! this ain't no football game. We'll make these heavyweights
look like ice-wagons. I never was much on beefy ball-players. Aha!
there goes the gong. Place's takin' the field. That suits me.... Peg,
listen! The game's on. I've only one word to say to you. _Try to keep
solid on your feet!_"
A short cheer, electrifying in its force, pealed out like a blast.