WHEN THE ARMY FANS WINCED
As Darrin sent in the third ball Beckwith made a desperate sweep for
it. It was not to be his, however.
"Three strikes! Striker out!"
That broad grin had come back to Dan Dalzell's face, as he held up
the neatly mitted ball for an instant, then hurled it lazily back
to Dave Darrin.
Now, Durville came to bat, and the captain of the Army nine was
an accurate and hard hitter.
"Ball one!"
"Strike one!"
"Strike two!"
"Ball two!"
Then came a slight swish of willow against leather. Durville
had at last succeeded in just touching the ball. But it was a
foul hit, and that was all. Dan, however, was not out at the
side in time to pick that foul into his own mitten.
Durville, his face somewhat pale and teeth clenched, stood ready
for his last chance. It came, in one of Darrin's trickiest throws.
It was no use, after all. Durville missed, and Dalzell didn't.
"Strike three---striker out!"
"Prescott, you know that Navy fellow! Go after him---hammer him
all the way down the river!" groaned Durville in a low voice as
Dick came forward.
Dan's quick ears heard, however, and his grin broadened. Well
enough Dalzell knew that Darrin had a lot of box tricks secreted
that would fool even a Prescott.
But Dick was not to be rattled, at any rate. He picked up the
bat, "hefted" it briefly, then stepped up beside the plate, ready
in a few seconds after Durville had gone disconsolately back to
the bench.
"I won't try to decipher Dave's deliveries; I'll judge them by
what they look like after the ball has started," swiftly decided
Prescott.
"Ball one!"
"Ball two!"
"Strike one!"
"Strike two!"
"Crack!"
So fast did Prescott start when that fly popped, that he was nearly
half way to first base when he dropped his bat. It was only a
fly out to right field, but it was a swift one, and it struck
turf before the Navy fielder could hoof it to the spot. He caught
it up, whirled, and drove straight to first, but Prescott's toe
had struck the bag a fraction of a second before.
"Runner safe at first!" called the umpire quietly. Then the ball
went back to Dave, who now had a double task of alertness, for
Holmes held the bat at the plate, while Prescott was trying to
steal second. Well did Dave Darrin know the trickiness of both
these Army players!
Greg, too, was cool, though a good deal apprehensive. With him
the call stood at balls three and strikes two when Greg thought
he saw his real chance.
Swat! Greg struck with all his strength, and at the sound, a
cheer rose from the seats of the Army fans. But the ball was
lower than Greg had calculated, and after all his assault on the
leather had resulted only in a bunt.
Navy's pitcher took a few swift steps, then bent, straightened
up and sent the ball driving to first.
"Runner out at first!"
Then indeed a wail went up. What did it matter that Prescott
had reached second? Greg's disaster had put the side out. And
now the Navy came back to bat. In this half of the second, three
hits were taken out of Prescott's delivery, and at one time there
were two sailors on bases. Then the Navy went out to grass and
the Army marched in for a trial. This time, however, the Army
had neither Durville, Prescott nor Holmes at the plate, and with
these three best batters on the bench, Dave had the satisfaction
of striking the soldiers out in one, two, three.
In the third inning neither side scored. Then, in the fourth,
with two sailors out when he came to bat, Dalzell exploded a two-bagger
that brought the Navy to its feet on the benches, cheering and
hat-waving. By the time that Dan's flying feet had kicked the
first bag on the course Dave Darrin was holding the willow and
standing calmly by the plate, watching.
Two of Dick's offers, Dave let go by without heeding, one ball
and one strike being called. But Dave, though he looked sleepy,
was wholly alert. At the third offer he drove a straight, neat
little bunt that was left for the Army's second baseman. That
baseman had it in season to drive to Lanton, at Army first base.
But Dave had hit the bag first, and was safe, while Dan Dalzell
was making pleased faces over at third.
Now, a member of the Navy team slipped over to that side of the
diamond to coach Dan on his home-running. In addition to pitching,
Dick had to watch first and third bases, in which situation Dave
Darrin, with great impudence and coolness, stole second in between
two throws.
On the faces of the Army fans, by this time, anxiety was written
in large letters. They had heard much about the Navy battery, but
not of its base-running qualities.
It was little Hutchins now again at the bat. His last time there
he had been struck out without trouble.
"But, it never does to be too positive that a fellow is a duffer,"
mused Prescott grimly, as he gripped the leather.
Just when little Hutchins seemed on the point of going to pieces
he misjudged one of Dick's puts so completely that he struck it,
by accident, a fearful crack. A cloud of dust marked the limits
of the diamond, while the air was filled with yells and howls.
When the dust cleared and the howls had subsided it was found
that Dalzell had loped in across the home plate, Darrin had come
along more swiftly and was in, while Hutchins touched the second
base an instant after the ball had nestled in Greg Holmes's Army
mitt.
It mattered little that Earl, who came next to bat, struck out.
The Navy had pulled in two runs---the only runs scored so far!
In the other half the Army nine secured nothing.
In the fifth neither team scored. In the sixth the Navy scored
one more run. In the sixth Lanton, of the Army, got home with
a single run.
Thus, at the beginning of the seventh, the score stood at three
to one with the grin on the Naval face.
During the seventh inning nothing was scored. Now, the sailor
boys came to bat for the first half of the eighth, with a din
of Navy yells on the air. West Point's men came back with a sturdy
assortment of good old Military Academy yells, but the life was
gone out. The Army was proud of such men as Durville, Prescott,
Holmes, but admitted silently that Darrin and Dalzell appeared
to belong to a slightly better class of ball.
"It's our fault, too," muttered the Army coach, Lieutenant Lawrence,
to a couple of brother officers. "Darrin and Dalzell have been
training with the Navy nine for two years, while Prescott and
Holmes came in late this season. Even if they wouldn't play last
year, these two men of ours should have reported for the very
first day's work last February."
"Prescott couldn't do it," remarked Lieutenant Denton, who had just
joined the group.
"Why not, Denton?" asked Lieutenant Lawrence.
"He was in Coventry."
"Pshaw!"
"Didn't you know that?" asked Denton.
"Not a word of it, though Durville once hinted to me that there
was some sort of reason why Prescott couldn't come in."
"There was---the Coventry," Denton replied. "But that trouble
blew over when the first classmen found themselves wrong in something
of which Jordan had accused Prescott."
"Humph!" growled Lieutenant Lawrence, in keen displeasure. "Then,
if we lose to-day, the first class can blame itself!"
"You think our battery pair better than the Navy's, then?" asked
Lieutenant Denton.
"Our men would have been better, by a shade, anyway, had they
been as long in training. But as it is-----"
"As it is," supplied another officer in the group, "we are wiped
off the slate by the Navy, this year, and no one can know it better
than we do ourselves."
Just as the fortunes of war would have it, Dan Dalzell again stood
by the plate at the beginning of the eighth.
"Wipe off that smile, Danny boy," called Darrin softly.
But Dan only shook his head with a deepening grin which seemed
to declare that he found the Navy situation all to the good.
In fact, Dalzell felt such a friendly contempt for poor old Dick's
form by this time, that he cheerily offered at Dick's first.
Crack! That ball arched up for right field, and Dan, hurling
his bat, started to make tracks and time. Beckwith, however,
was out in right field, and knew what was expected of him. He
ran in under that dropping ball, held out his hands and gathered
it in.
Dick smiled quietly, almost imperceptibly, while Dan strolled
mournfully back to the bench. Then Prescott turned, bent on
annihilating his good old friend Darrin, if possible. In great
disgust, Dave struck out. The look on the Navy fan's faces could
be interpreted only as saying:
"Oh, well, we don't need runs, anyway!"
But when Hutchins struck out---one, two, three!---after as many
offers, Navy faces began to look more grave.
"Hold 'em down, Navy---hold 'em down!" rang the appeal from Navy
seats when the Army went to bat in the eighth.
Dick was first at bat now, with Greg on deck. As Prescott swung
the willow and eyed Darrin, there was "blood" in the Army pitcher's
eyes.
Then Darrin gave a sudden gasp, for, at his first delivery, Dick
sized up the ball, located it, and punched it. That ball dropped
in center field just as Dick was turning the first bag. It sped
on, but Dick turned back from too big a risk.
But he looked at Greg, waiting idly at bat, and Holmes caught the
full meaning of that appealing look.
"It's now or never," growled Greg between his teeth. "It's seldom
any good to depend at all on the ninth inning."
Darrin, with a full knowledge of what was threatened to the Navy
by the present situation, tried his best to rattle Greg. And
one strike was called on Holmesy, but the second strike he called
himself by some loud talk of bat against leather. Then, while
the ball sped into right field, Greg ran after it, stopping, however,
at first bag, while Prescott sprinted down to second bag, kicked
it slightly, and came back to it.
It was up to Lanton, of the Army, now! In this crisis the Army
first baseman either lacked true diamond nerve, or else he could
not see Darrin's curves well, for Lanton took the call of two
strikes before he was awarded called balls enough to permit him
to lope contentedly away to first. This advanced both Dick and
Greg.
Bases full---no outs! Three runs needed!
This was the throbbing situation that confronted Cadet Carter
as he picked up an Army bat and stood by the plate, facing the
"wicked" and well-nigh invincible Darrin of the Navy!