_A Victory Over Self_
The fall and winter brought little change in the situation, and when the
holiday time came, Larry Kirkland found himself barred as completely
from the Cascade team as he had been during his Freshman rebellion.
Day after day during the fall, while the team was playing and in
training, he reported at the field, toiled at chasing the balls batted
to outfielders by the regulars, and during the breathing spells worked
with Katsura, Trumbull and Winans. At the first he secretly hoped that
coach Haxton would see the injustice of the stand he had taken and
permit them to participate in the practice, at least sufficiently to
ascertain whether or not they were good enough to play the game. But
after the first day, Haxton paid little or no attention to them, save to
issue brief orders for them to go to the outfield and catch flies. If
one of them dared advance to the infield and occupy a place temporarily
vacant, he was sent back with a sharp rebuff. In the hours outside of
practice, the ostracised quartette gathered on the lot near their
“barracks” and indulged in real practice.
After three weeks of that kind of treatment, Larry found himself in a
mood to rebel openly, to tell Haxton and Baldwin what he thought of them
and to quit. Only the weekly letter from Krag, praising him for his
pluck in sticking to it under trying circumstances, kept him from the
move that would have been fatal. He managed to maintain a cheerful
demeanor while practicing with the regulars, but occasionally, while
with his own chums, he broke out in protests.
“Confound it, fellows,” he remarked one evening, as they rested after an
hour of catching and fielding practice on their improvised field, “I
don’t want them to think I’m a quitter, or that they can run over us
this way. It is getting on Haxton’s nerves to have us come out and
pretend that we like being errand boys. He knows we see the weaknesses
of his team, and he knows that he is making a big mistake in treating us
this way.”
“One of our philosophers says,” remarked Katsura, “that the more evil
one does to a foe, the more one hates him.”
“But that isn’t the worst of it,” continued Larry, “I have a guilty
feeling all the time that I am doing Cascade a lot of harm myself; that
I ought to quit.”
“How do you figure that out?” inquired Winans.
“Haxton and Baldwin do not dislike any of you. They hate me and I have
dragged all of you into it because you are my friends. If I’d quit going
to the field, he’d soon give you fellows a chance”——
“It’s the principle of the thing, Larry,” said Trumbull. “Now, as for
myself, I don’t care a bit whether I play on the team or not. In fact,
I’d rather just be lazy and loaf around than get out there and hustle
for a place on the team. But I can’t do it. I want to see Cascade get
the right system in athletics. If we stick together we’ll soon have the
sentiment of the better bunch of fellows with us and with the sentiment
of the students behind us”——
“That is the big danger,” interrupted Winans. “If we win by taking
control ourselves, we antagonize all the other crowd. There are some
decent fellows with them; because they do not understand what the
situation is, and they have their friends. Even if the secret societies
did get them onto the team, they’re good players. It will not do
athletics any good if we merely drive out one faction and put another in
control.”
At that juncture Paw Lattiser came around the building, stopped, gazed
at them solemnly over the rims of his heavy glasses and remarked:
“Hello, youngsters, plotting again?”
“We were just talking over the athletic situation,” replied Winans,
“especially the baseball team.”
“I thought it was about time for me to look up you kids,” said the
veteran, seating himself. “I haven’t had time to watch you. What is it,
more trouble?”
“Same old trouble,” replied Trumbull ruefully. “We’re all trying for the
team, and all we get to do is to chase flies in the outfield.”
“Have you been doing that faithfully?” asked Lattiser earnestly.
“Every afternoon,” replied Winans. “Haxton scolds if we pitch or catch,
and I’ve forgotten how a bat feels in my hands. He shoos us out if we
get too near the infield”——
“It looks as if he didn’t want you,” remarked Lattiser, thoughtfully
rubbing his chin. “I thought maybe he would be more of a man. The thing
for him to do was either to work you hard, then say you would not do for
the team, or else to play fair. He does not seem to have the nerve to do
one, or the moral courage to do the other.”
“Yes, but what are we to do about it?” asked Larry quickly.
“My boy, keep on working hard, don’t talk back, don’t give him any
opportunity to order you off the field. Meantime, you four are learning
just as much baseball and a lot more discipline than you would learn if
you were on the team. Leave the rest to Pop. I’ll figure out some way to
straighten things out.”
“He’s a queer bird,” laughed Trumbull as Lattiser strolled on, feeling
his way with his feet, his eyes fastened upon the pages of his book.
“He is older—and therefore wiser,” said Katsura. “His eyes twinkled
when he spoke of finding a way. I think he already has a plan.”
But in spite of Lattiser’s promise to find a way the fall and winter
passed without a change in the situation, and the Christmas holidays
drew nearer and nearer. Baseball practice had given way to the football
squads, and the interest of the students turned to the other games.
Practice was abandoned, and training suspended until after the holidays.
In spite of this suspended animation on the part of the team, Katsura,
Winans and Trumbull worked faithfully at their practice. Only a few days
during the winter were severe enough to prevent playing, and they found
their work improving steadily. Winans had become a remarkably effective
catcher, and when working with Katsura, he seemed to increase the
effectiveness of the little brown boy’s pitching. Larry discovered to
his surprise that Katsura could prevent him from hitting the ball hard
and that he had discovered his “weakness,” which was a sharp curve ball,
which “broke” quickly at the front of the plate. Winans, who, in a quiet
way, was a tease, delighted in signaling for this ball whenever Katsura
pitched two strikes to Larry, and he roared with laughter when it
“fooled” the batter. Katsura had mastered the “javelin curve,” and the
motion, peculiar as it was, made the ball the more deceptive.
“What’s the use of working so hard?” panted Trumbull one evening. “We
haven’t a real chance—and none of the regulars is in training at all.”
“That’s just the idea,” replied Winans. “I’m not bubbling over with
delight at the idea of working hard an hour a day—but we are fighting
for a chance to make good, and we’d be nice lobsters if we fell down
when we got the chance.”
So the practice work continued steadily through the winter term. Twice a
month, on evenings when callers were permitted, Larry Kirkland rode to
St. Gertrude’s and called upon Helen Baldwin. The girl seemed delighted
to receive him, and chattered bewitchingly during the hour he was
permitted to remain with her in the parlors. By silent consent they had
banished the topic of the enmity between the families. Several times
Helen asked him what Harry was doing, and complained that he seldom came
to see her, and that she was lonely.
Both were planning their Christmas vacations, and Larry was disappointed
when she received word that her uncle would stop for her and take her
East for the holidays. Krag had written, planning a deer-hunting trip
into the mountains, and at the prospect of the hunt, Larry rushed
through the remaining weeks of the term, and with a much lighter heart
boarded the train for Shasta View. He felt that he had conquered himself
and gained a great victory, even though he had failed to make the team.