GOOD BASEBALL WEATHER
Bob Somers was delighted to see Captain Bunderley and his nephew. The
two visitors were entertained at the Somers home on several occasions,
and soon became familiar figures in Kingswood.
The captain, putting up at the largest hotel in town, often visited the
high school and athletic field, where his bluff, hearty manner gained
immediate favor. Of course there were exceptions. "Crackers" Brown,
Owen Lawrence, Aleck Parks and some of their followers didn't seem so
favorably impressed.
"He's got too much to say, and I don't like the way he says it,"
growled Parks. "Makes you think of a steam roller flattening everything
before it."
"He's as thick as paste with the Somers crowd," said Owen.
"And when the captain drops in to Terry Guffin's he roars his opinions
out so loud that my delicate ear-drums rebel," remarked "Crackers," in
his usual grave tone. "Now, to change the subject. As Mr. Barry said
to Bob Somers and Steele the other night, 'There ought to be a change
mighty soon.'"
"I guess there's no doubt about his saying it," grumbled Owen, "though
both of 'em are as mum as oysters."
"They don't deny it," said "Crackers."
"If the nine doesn't take a brace on the next game," observed Aleck
Parks, "I'll begin to believe our athletic field has joined the castle
in Spain class."
There could be no doubt that the school was taking an intense interest
in the third contest with the Stars, scheduled for the following
Saturday. Coach Steele had his men out practicing every afternoon,
devoting his attention to strengthening the weak points.
"Jack Frost" was developing more confidence in himself, and Willie
Singleton, another pitcher, whom Steele had not yet used, was rapidly
acquiring the knack of speeding shoots and curves over the plate.
"Charlie Blake and Tom Clifton bother me a bit," confided Coach Steele
to Bob Somers. "Charlie's a mighty good player until something happens
to shake his nerves. Then he's apt to hit the toboggan. And Tom's a
little too excitable, especially when it comes to close plays. At their
best, however, I don't think any of the candidates could beat them."
"Neither do I, though many of the fellows are kicking because Charlie
was chosen instead of Roycroft."
"We shall have a distinguished audience on hand Saturday," said
Steele--"your friend, Captain Bunderley, and 'Uncle' Steve, of Goose
Hill fame, will join the president and Professor Ivins on the anxious
bench."
"Yes; they'll have the bench, and we the anxious part," grinned Bob.
"How about it, Dave?"
"I've got so much work to do on the next number of the 'Reflector' that
I haven't time to be anxious," said Dave.
"Guess Benny Wilkins keeps you busy firing stuff," chuckled Tom,
sauntering up in time to hear his remark. "Say, Bob, Victor Collins has
bought a bugle. It'll help some to swell the noise of our rooters."
"I hope the greatest part of the din will come right after the ninth
inning," remarked Steele.
None of the boys looked forward more eagerly to Saturday afternoon's
contest than Victor Collins. Captain Bunderley, too, was expectant,
and made several emphatic observations in the "Retreat," which rather
jolted the susceptible feelings of the "Pie-eaters."
On the day set for the game the weather turned out to be balmy and
springlike. During the past few days the color of the landscape had
changed surprisingly. The dull, yellowish grass had given place to
areas of cool, refreshing green; trees here and there were beginning to
hide their branches under myriads of leaves and blossoms.
No wide-awake boy could have been discouraged or gloomy on a day like
this. The players romped through their practice like young colts.
By the time the Stars appeared a happy, excited crowd thronged the
field.
Professor Ivins had no desire to see the game, but, being a very
amiable man, did not like to refuse President Hopkins' request.
"Our presence may help to encourage the boys," said the head of the
school. "What a superb day! I have an idea that we shall win this time."
"If there was only some way by which those abominable foul tips could
be prevented I should feel safer," murmured Professor Ivins. "Ah! Here
is Captain Bunderley."
"Very glad to see you, gentlemen!" exclaimed the skipper. "Magnificent
day, isn't it? Almost makes me feel like playing ball myself."
The three men were seated on the bench reserved for them when Mr.
Rupert Barry appeared, with a little man trotting at his side.
Captain Bunderley was thereupon introduced to the millionaire and
"Uncle" Steve.
"Very glad to meet you, I'm sure," said Mr. Kimbole, rubbing his hands
nervously together. "Grand baseball weather, isn't it?"
"Superb!" said Professor Hopkins.
"Magnificent," added the captain.
"Unexceptionable!" chimed in Professor Ivins.
"Now that the status of the weather has been decided," remarked Mr.
Barry, dryly, "we can compose ourselves to witness--a--well, I hope, a
better game than it was our misfortune to see on the last occasion."
The high school crowd seemed to be in a state of unusual tension when
the game began, and, as it progressed from inning to inning, they
relieved their pent-up feelings by uproarious yells. Victor Collins'
newly-purchased bugle ably assisted in producing noise.
Tony Tippen, as before, was the stumbling-block in the path of success.
No matter how desperately the batters tried to land on his varied
assortment of curves the result was the same. At the end of the fifth
inning the score stood three to nothing in favor of the Stars.
"Great Scott, Bob, this is awful," murmured Tom Clifton, wiping
his perspiring face, as they flocked out into the field. "The jinx
certainly has us again. Honest, Bob, Tony sent in a slow ball that I
thought, sure as shootin', I could knock a mile, and it didn't reach me
until after I'd swung the stick."
"A fraction of a second counts," said Bob. "Don't get worried, Tom."
"Oh, I guess I'm no more worried than anybody else," grumbled Tom.
"Just listen to Nat Wingate and Hackett bawling! The way those
'Pie-eaters' try to crow over our crowd certainly makes me weary."
"Batter up!" called the umpire.
"Enter Willie Singleton; exit 'Jack Frost,'" said Bob, his eyes on the
new pitcher stepping into the box. "Hope to thunder he can keep down
the hits."
Singleton, a businesslike lad whom nothing seemed to rattle, put all
his energy and skill into the task.
Tony Tippen, however, found him for a two-base hit; Nat singled, and
both made the circuit of the bases before the third out was recorded.
"The same old--old story," remarked "Crackers," disgustedly.
"A serial story," supplemented Benny Wilkins. "To be continued in our
next, I s'pose?"
"You're a nice pair!" exclaimed Dick Travers, secretary of the athletic
association. "Haven't the boys put up a mighty good defensive fight?"
"Of course!" broke in Harry Spearman. "If it hadn't been for good
fielding and some mighty fast throws to bases the score would now be
about ten to nothing."
"It's only delayed; it's only delayed," said "Crackers." "You don't
need a spy-glass to see how Mr. Barry is looking."
"Gee! What's up to make you chaps look so sour?"
Victor Collins had appeared upon the scene.
"Everything, Checkered-Cap," answered Aleck Parks. "Tell your uncle to
be at Guffin's to-night. We'd like to hear his opinion of the game."
"Strikes me that you're kind of fresh," responded Victor, calmly. "But
I've noticed that you're mighty quiet when the captain's around."
"Here, Checkered-Cap, don't throw any saucy remarks in this direction,"
warned Aleck, bristling up.
"I chuck 'em out whenever I please, and whoever gets in the way catches
'em."
At the same moment Owen Lawrence was saying:
"A mighty poor game, Roycroft. They're just as weak as ever on the
stick work."
"I think it's partly because Tippen's in a class by himself," said Earl.
"All the same, I'll bet if you had a chance at bat you'd rip the
stitches out of that ball."
"Oh, I don't know. I'd like to try it, though."
"If you'd only put up a stiff kick in the gym that day you might be
doing it now," exclaimed Luke Phelps.
"Maybe," admitted the big football guard.
"I call this a mighty good game, Owen Lawrence," piped Victor Collins.
"What's the dif if your side is losing?"
"Only a big field with a diamond all laid out, and a grand stand
besides," sniffed Lawrence.
"Get out! This is only the fifth game. Aren't there about ten more?"
"To lose--most likely," growled Parks.
"I reckon it'll do Clifton a lot of good. He used to be a regular
caution. I was going to nickname him 'Vanitas' a dozen times."
"Just suited to him, too, Checkers," said Aleck Parks. "You've got a
wee bit of sense, after all."
"Thanks! I can't return the compliment until I know you a bit better."
"Some awful fresh remarks are being let loose," exclaimed Ted Pollock.
"'Vanitas'! That seems to hit Tom's case about right. What inning is
this--the eighth?"
"Yes! And it's another case of whitewash," grumbled Parks. "There's our
grand editor of the 'Reflector' at bat. Watch him. He's going to swing.
Ah----"
"Strike one!" came over the air.
Harry Spearman dug his heel viciously into the yielding turf. The
sarcastic looks on the faces of "Crackers" Brown and Owen Lawrence
stung his sensitive nature.
"Come on, Dick," he said, in a low tone. "I want to speak to Bob a
moment."
They found the captain and Coach Steele coming away from the bench on
which Mr. Rupert Barry and the others were seated.
Steele shook his head and laughed dryly.
"Things are not breaking just the way we hoped, Harry," he said. "If we
could only put a man on base once in a while I'll wager they'd manage
to get around some way or other."
"What does Mr. Barry think about it?"
"He can't figure how it is that the boys aren't able to crack out a few
base hits."
"The fellows who face Tony Tippen understand it," said Bob. "Side
out--back to the field for us!"
The gentlemen on the "grand stand," as Victor Collins had dubbed the
bench, rose to their feet a short time later, when yells, hoots,
cat-calls and furious blasts from dozens of megaphones announced that
something had happened.
That something was Big Bill Steever dashing frantically across home
plate, a feat which required the official scorer to jot down the
seventh tally for the Stars.
The high school team made a desperate attempt to change the monotonous
list of ciphers which filled their run column.
Tippen, however, held them safe.
"Seven to nothing," growled Mr. Rupert Barry.
"It has been a great game," chirped "Uncle" Steve. "Considering
everything, I think the schoolboys put up a pretty good fight."
"So do I," exclaimed Captain Bunderley, in his deep bass voice.
"Our ideas differ, sir," said Mr. Barry, gripping his knotted cane as
though he intended to knock some one on the head. "I'm disgusted--so
completely disgusted that I hardly know how to find words to express my
feelings."
"Don't try, sir; don't try!" advised Mr. Kimbole, smiling benignly.
"What a grand sport baseball is! I trust, sir"--he turned toward
Professor Ivins--"that you have enjoyed the afternoon as much as I."
"Ahem--ahem!" The professor polished his eye-glasses industriously. "To
be sure. After one has been cooped up indoors all week this sunshine is
really delightful," he admitted.
"No matter who may be discouraged by the showing of the school, I am
not," declared Captain Bunderley, emphatically.
"I believe, if we could get the consensus of opinion, you'd have few
supporters," snapped Mr. Rupert Barry. "Five straight defeats seem to
forecast a dismal failure."