WHEREIN NELSON AND BOB PLAY BALL AND LAURELVILLE MAKES A PROTEST
That was a strange and wonderful game!
Neither Nelson nor Bob--nor for that matter Tom nor Dan, who merely
looked on--ever quite forgot it. The first inning was not over before
it became evident that in the annual contests between Mannig and
Laurelville “everything went.” It was “anything to win,” and “dirty
playing” was not only looked for but applauded vigorously. The rivalry
was intense, and the feeling between the opposing teams was not of the
best.
That first inning ended without a score. Mannig had won the toss
and had gone into the field. Nelson had disposed of the first three
Laurelville batsmen in short order, and his reputation, which had
grown at leaps and bounds during the forenoon, went up still farther.
He was variously said to be a “second-string” pitcher from the New
York American team, an A1 twirler from the Hobokens, borrowed for the
occasion, and a youthful wonder from some small team in New Hampshire.
Nelson, however, was quite unaware of the interest and curiosity which
he was arousing.
But if Laurelville had failed to get to first in that inning, Mannig
could boast of no better success. Her first three men went out quickly,
Burns flying to shortstop, Morris striking out, and Kleinschmidt being
easily beaten to first by the ball. There was all sorts of noise from
the audience, and everybody, from the small boys along the base lines
to the players themselves, showed intense excitement.
Laurelville had no better luck during her second inning, Nelson
disposing of three men with exactly seventeen deliveries.
Harrison, the Mannig second baseman, a fellow of twenty-six or -seven
years and a powerful batter, opened up for his side in the last of the
second. He didn’t find Mr. “Slim” Somes very difficult, it seemed, for
he caught the first ball delivered on the end of his bat and sent it
flying over first baseman’s head for a hit. The next batsman sent him
on to second and was caught himself at first. Then came Fultz, the
manager, who played in center field. He had two strikes called on him
before he offered. Then he found something to his liking and knocked
a long fly into left field. Left fielder failed to get under it, and
Harrison romped home. Fultz was safe on first.
The Laurelville supporters jeered and shouted in an effort to drown
the wild acclaim of the Mannigites, but to little purpose. If Mannig’s
cheer wasn’t musical, it was at least powerful, and it made the welkin
ring for a while. By the time things had quieted down somewhat, Bob
was at the plate. Fultz evidently expected a sacrifice which would
put him on second, but Bob wasn’t used to playing sacrifices with one
man out. The result was that on the first delivery Fultz streaked for
second. The Laurelville catcher shot the ball down to shortstop, and
Fultz walked off the diamond to the hoots and catcalls of the enemy.
The incident worried Bob somewhat, and in a moment he had struck out.
Fultz was feeling a trifle sore and let Bob know it as they trotted out
to the field together. But Bob expressed such deep contrition that the
manager regained his temper and laughed it off.
The first of the third brought the Laurelville tail-enders to the bat,
but the tail-enders proved more formidable that inning than the head
of the batting list had theretofore. The second man up--the first had
been easily disposed of--found Nelson for a two-bagger. The next man,
the redoubtable Somes, got Nelson so rattled by his remarks and monkey
tricks that Nelson gave him, very unwillingly, you may be certain, his
base on balls. Then came a wild throw to third by Conly, who hoped to
catch the runner napping, and Laurelville scored her first run.
If there had been noise before, there was pandemonium now!
Kleinschmidt, the Blue’s left fielder, who had very neatly backed up
third baseman and so prevented a second tally, tossed the ball back to
Nelson in disgust. Burns, from third, was venting his anger on everyone
within sound of his voice, and Nelson didn’t escape.
“No more gifts, Tilford!” he cried. “If you can’t put them over, hit
him with it! Only don’t let him walk!”
Nelson turned back to the next batsman, suddenly experiencing a deep
dislike for the whole business. They were all a crowd of muckers, he
told himself, and he wished he hadn’t agreed to pitch for them. But
now that he was in it he had to keep it up. So he tried to steady down
and dispose of the batter. But Conly was exasperated over his wild
throw and let the first delivery pass him, and the man on second got to
third. A hit would mean a second tally. Nelson tried an outcurve, but
the batsman only smiled. Then Nelson gave him a slow, straight ball,
and the batter was caught for a strike. The score was two and one. Then
came a third ball, and Nelson wondered what Burns would say or do if
the batsman walked to first. But a drop improved the situation, even
though Nelson was still, to use baseball parlance, “in a hole.” There
was only one thing to do, and that was to put the ball over the plate
and trust to the fielders. So he did it. But he didn’t have to trust
to the fielders. The man at bat found the delivery, and sent it hard
and straight toward Nelson. It was coming so swiftly that he might have
been excused for letting it pass. But he reached up and brought it
down, even though the shock staggered him for an instant, and then sped
it to third. The inning was over, with the score one to one.
Mannig trotted in, and Conly picked out his bat. He found what he
wanted in Mr. Somes’s second delivery, and hit safe for one base.
Nelson followed with an attempted sacrifice that worked so well that
he not only advanced Conly, but reached first safely himself by a
hairbreadth. That decision of the umpire’s brought out wild protest
from the Laurelville supporters, and an energetic “kick” from the
Green-and-White’s captain. But the umpire wasn’t the sort to let a
player disturb him for very long, and soon the captain had retired to
his position, muttering and glowering. Burns fouled out to catcher, and
Kelly, the Mannig shortstop, was thrown out at first, Conly and Nelson
each securing a change of base. When Kleinschmidt came to the plate,
what was earnestly required was a safe hit, and, being an obliging
chap, Kleinschmidt supplied it, sending the ball whizzing between first
and second basemen, and bringing in both Conly and Nelson. And Mannig’s
war whoop sounded excruciatingly. Harrison waited for something
pleasing, but waited a little bit too long, and the side was out. But
three to one looked very good to Mannig, and Burns begged Nelson to
hold the opponents down.
By this time Nelson had forgotten his displeasure and went into the
box ready to do his level best. And he did it. The first two men
struck out like children, and, although the third reached his base on
a hit and an error of shortstop’s, the fourth batsman could do nothing
against Nelson’s puzzling delivery, and followed in the ignominious
footsteps of the first couple. And Mannig cheered and capered, and
showed very plainly that they were terribly pleased about something.
It was in the fourth that Bob vindicated himself. Simpson fanned out.
Then Fultz, having reached first by being hit on the elbow with the
ball, stole second a moment later. Bob came to the plate and allowed
two deliveries to pass him. The umpire confirmed his judgment. With two
balls to his credit, he wasn’t going to accept any old thing, and so he
waited for Mr. Somes to oblige him with something nice. And while he
waited, the first real trouble occurred.
Fultz, down on second, was keeping both second baseman and shortstop
very much worried. He had shown his ability at stealing bases, and they
were watching him as though he were a mouse, and they two very hungry
cats. That was all right, but when the shortstop, unseen by the umpire,
who was back of the pitcher, undertook to hold Fultz by the arm, the
runner objected. He not only objected, but showed the fact by sending
the Laurelville player over on his back by a well-applied shove. Then
the second baseman took a hand in the argument, and Fultz went down
with a blow on his jaw. At that moment the pitcher ran up with the
ball, and dug it, none too gently, into Fultz’s ribs, and, as Fultz was
reclining somewhat dazed a yard from base, Laurelville claimed that he
had been put out.
But the umpire couldn’t see it that way. So time was called, and while
several incipient riots took place Mannig and Laurelville argued it
over angrily, each side threatening to take its team off the field.
Finally, the umpire took a hand at threatening. His threat was that
if they didn’t go on with the game at once, he’d award it to Mannig.
Whereupon the spectators were finally dispelled and the field cleared.
The incident hadn’t increased the _entente cordiale_, and the opposing
players eyed each other angrily. But in a moment there was a diversion.
And Bob caused it. Others might have lost their heads for the time
being, but not Bob. Mr. Somes, still aggrieved, was off his guard for
an instant, and Bob took advantage of the fact. His bat met the nice,
straight ball with a loud _crack_, and in a moment he was speeding
around the bases, and Fultz, sufficiently recovered from his treatment
to be able to run, trotted leisurely across the plate in a disdainful
manner, which said as loudly as words, “It’s a shame to do it!”
Away out, past center fielder, who was doing a lot of tall running, the
ball had dropped softly to the ground. Bob swung around second and made
for third. Center fielder reached the ball, scooped it up, and hustled
it toward shortstop, who had run out for it. Bob spurned third base
under flying feet and set his face homeward. A chaos of sound reigned.
Shortstop swung about and threw the ball frantically to the plate,
where the catcher, for what to him had seemed an age, had been awaiting
it with outstretched hands.
Friends of Mannig held their breath. Ball and runner were both speeding
for the same goal. It had seemed at first that Bob was certain of a
home run, but the fielding had been extremely fast, and now it appeared
that he was doomed to have his trouble for nothing. If someone had only
had the sense to hold him at third base!
Simultaneously two things happened. The flying sphere settled with a
thud against the catcher’s mitt, and Bob, sliding over the ground in a
cloud of brown dust, touched the plate with the fingers of one eager
hand. Then down came the catcher’s hand and the ball, like a sledge
hammer, and Bob straightened out his legs, rolled over on to his back,
and lay very still.
In an instant the plate, the catcher, the umpire, and the unconscious
form of Bob formed the vortex of a pushing, shouting maelstrom of
humanity. Dan, who had been one of the first to reach Bob’s side,
strove to raise him from the ground for fear that the struggling crowd
would trample upon him, but so close about him were the angry partisans
of Mannig that he could only hold Bob in a sitting position, and beg
for room and air. The catcher, white of face, hemmed in by the enemy,
declared loudly that he had intended no harm, but he was no coward, and
his tone was so defiant that it only added to the wrath of the crowd.
The umpire strove mightily for peace. So far no blow had been struck,
although many hands were clinched and several arms were raised. The
catcher was being jostled back and forth as the throng swayed hither
and thither. Dan, by dint of much tugging, at last lifted Bob in his
arms, and, aided now by Burns and a stranger, fought a way through the
dense throng. Once on the bench, with a sopping towel at his head, Bob
soon regained consciousness and opened his eyes.
“What’s up?” he asked weakly.
“Oh, that blamed catcher took you in the side of the head with the
ball,” answered Dan angrily.
“I know, but what”--he turned his head toward the shouting mass on the
diamond--“what’s doing over there?”
“Free fight, I guess,” said Dan.
“That’s what,” said Burns, the light of battle in his eye. “Look after
him and I’ll see if I can help.”
With that he sped away and was lost in the throng which was pouring on
to the field from the stand.
“He didn’t mean anything,” cried Bob. “It’s all nonsense. Here, let me
up, Dan!”
He climbed to his feet, stood for an instant with blinking eyes, and
then, ere Dan could restrain him, was running toward the center of
the gathering. Dan, calling, followed. But it was hard work getting
through, and long before he reached the scene of trouble the war was
averted.
Bob, shouldering his way into the struggling, shuffling mass with scant
ceremony, tore the catcher out of the hands of a big, ugly-faced tough.
Only one or two of the Laurelville players had managed to reach the
catcher’s side, and for an instant Bob was mistaken by the Mannigites
for another member of the enemy’s forces. A louder growl of rage went
up, but at that moment Bob lifted his voice above the pandemonium.
“Get off the field!” he cried. “I’m not hurt! It was all an accident!
Please get out of the way and let us finish the game!”
“Accident!” exclaimed an ugly, incredulous voice. “Looks like an
accident, don’t it?”
Bob coolly passed a hand over the discolored lump on the side of his
head and smiled.
“That’s all it was,” he replied. “Accidents will happen. If you don’t
get off the field at once, Laurelville will say we interfered with the
game and they couldn’t finish it. And as we haven’t played five innings
yet, we’ll get left!”
“That’s so,” some one agreed. “Come on.”
“Say, you’re a plucky one, kid!” cried another.
Good nature returned, and, laughing and shoving, the throng fought its
way back. As it thinned away about the plate, the Laurelville captain
ran up. Seeing Bob, he turned and made for him.
“Say, what’s the matter with you?” he cried, brandishing his fist
under Bob’s nose. “He didn’t mean to slug you, you baby! For two cents
I’d----”
A hand shot out and swung him about.
“Shut up, Jack!” growled the catcher. “He’s all right; he ain’t made
any kick; he’s just been telling his crowd it was an accident. It was
too.” He looked closely at Bob. Bob nodded.
“Of course,” he answered. “I understand.”
“Well, that’s all right,” said the captain a trifle sheepishly. “I
thought they were doing you up, Ted, old man.”
“Well, I guess they would have if this fellow hadn’t butted in just
when he did,” answered the catcher dryly. He glanced at Bob. “Much
obliged,” he muttered.
Presently order was restored once more and the game went on. Conly went
out at second, after knocking what he and everyone else thought was
a safe two-bagger, and Nelson fell prey to Somes’s deceptive drops.
And the teams changed sides with the score five to one, in favor of
Mannig. The fifth inning commenced with the Laurelville captain at
bat. He led off with a pop fly that ought to have been an easy out,
but which was muffed by Harrison at second. The next man advanced
the captain and went out at first. Then came a clean two-bagger that
brought Laurelville’s second tally. But after that there were no more
hits, and, with the score now five to two, Mannig once more took its
innings. But Burns, Kelly, and Kleinschmidt went out in quick order
without changing the figures. Laurelville trotted in to the bench, and
her captain hailed Burns.
“Say,” he asked, “where’s that pitcher of yours come from?”
“What difference does that make?” asked Burns.
“It makes a lot of difference. He played with some New Hampshire team,
and you can’t get men from outside the State.”
“Oh, come off! Who said so?”
“It’s in the agreement,” was the reply.
“I never saw it!”
“Well, it’s there. And if you play that pitcher, we won’t go on with
the game.”
“Oh, stop if you want to,” replied Burns sweetly. “I guess we’ve got it
cinched all right.”
“We’ll protest it,” was the answer. “You haven’t any business playing
either that pitcher or the fellow in center.”
“Why didn’t you say something about it before we beat you?” demanded
Burns angrily.
“I didn’t know it,” was the answer.
Burns hesitated, and then summoned Fultz. With Fultz went most of the
Mannig team. Thereupon the Laurelville players also joined the group,
scenting trouble. Finally, Fultz called to Nelson.
“Say, where do you live?” he asked.
“Boston.”
“How about you, Hethington?”
“Portland, Maine,” replied Bob.
“All right,” answered Fultz. “I suppose we’ll have to drop ’em. But I
never heard of the fool rule before! We’ll beat you, anyway,” he added
wrathfully.
“Go ahead,” said the Laurelville captain cheerfully. “But you can’t
come any tricks like that on us. I guess we’ve got a good right to
claim the game as it is. You’ve played those fellows for five innings
already.”
“Protest all you like,” answered Burns. “If you didn’t want them to
play, you ought to have said so.”
Fultz turned to Nelson and Bob.
“They say we haven’t any right to play fellows from outside the State,”
he explained. “First I ever knew it. I’m sorry. And we hate to lose you
chaps. But I guess you’ve done pretty well for us. We’re much obliged,
and if you want to change your mind about the pay, we’re still ready to
hand over the money. I’ll see you after the game.”
Nelson and Bob retired to the bench. Neither of them was sorry to get
out of the game. Bob’s head was aching a good deal, and Nelson’s arm
was beginning to feel pretty sore.
“Think they can hold that lead of three runs?” asked Bob.
“I don’t believe so,” Nelson replied. “Depends a good deal on their
pitcher. Who is he?”
“A chap named Sullivan,” answered Bob. “Pretty poor, I guess.”
“Well, let’s stay and see it out, anyway. Hello, you chaps!” he added,
as Dan and Tom came up.
“Hello, yourself,” replied Dan. “What’s the row?”
Nelson explained, and Tom was highly indignant.
“Ho-ho-ho-hope they ch-ch-ch--” he began.
“Yes, indeed, Tommy,” said Bob soothingly, “but I don’t believe they
will choke. They may get beaten, but they probably won’t choke.”
“You might run over and suggest it to them, though,” said Dan
hopefully. “They might be willing to oblige you.”
It soon began to look bad for Mannig. The new pitcher was fast, and
at times puzzling, but he was terribly wild. Conly alone saved his
team from utter rout for a while, stopping many a wild pitch. Then
things began to happen. With one out, Laurelville located the ball, and
started to hammer it to all parts of the diamond. Only the best sort of
fielding kept her from forging ahead then and there. With three men on
bases and but one out, it surely looked for a while as though Mannig’s
sun was about to set. But heady, fast work on the part of the infield
spoiled Laurelville’s chances, and only one run was added to her score
in that inning. But Laurelville trotted out looking hopeful. Next time,
they hoped, they would have better luck. As the Mannig players returned
to the bench, it was plain to be seen that they feared defeat. Fultz
threw himself down beside Dan.
“Gee!” he said. “That was a narrow squeak, wasn’t it?”
“It surely was,” answered Dan. “You fellows did great work.”
“Yes, that was a dandy double.”
Presently Dan said:
“Seems like you are playing against the Laurelville Fire Department.”
Fultz looked puzzled.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Oh, a chap over there in the crowd was telling me about it awhile
ago,” answered Dan. “He says more than half the nine are firemen. They
have a volunteer department here, you know. He was wondering what would
happen if an alarm was rung in. He said he bet the Laurelville captain
would let the old town burn up.”
And Dan chuckled at the idea.
“Did he say just how many belonged to the Fire Department?” asked Fultz
carelessly.
“Yes, he said seven out of the twelve players and subs. He told me who
they were, but I didn’t pay any attention.”
“Well, I’m on deck,” said Fultz. “Guess I’ll find my bat.”
But Dan, smiling at his thoughts, noticed that the manager had
apparently changed his mind. For, instead of going to where the bats
were piled, he walked around the bench and across to where a group of
Mannig citizens were watching the contest from the grass back of third
base. There he stooped and spoke to a youth in a dingy suit of clothes.
Presently the youth arose, and he and Fultz wandered away together
toward the end of the grand stand. As the Mannig batsman was at that
moment making his second abortive strike at the ball, it is doubtful if
anyone save Dan noticed them. They conversed together a moment at the
corner of the stand, and then the youth lounged away out of sight, and
Fultz returned and selected his bat. When he had it he turned quickly
and glanced at Dan. Dan was apparently absorbed in the fate of the
batter.
That was speedily decided, for he couldn’t resist a slow drop that had
every appearance of a straight ball, and turned disgustedly away to
toss his bat into the pile. But after that Mannig’s chances appeared to
brighten. With only one man out, she managed to get runners on second
and third, and for a time it looked as though she was about to pile up
some more tallies. The Mannig contingent became wildly enthusiastic,
and their excruciating war whoop filled the air. But their hopes were
doomed to disappointment, for the two runners were obliged to stay just
where they were while the succeeding pair of batsmen struck ignobly
out. And now the seventh inning began with the score five to three, in
favor of the visitors.
Once more the Laurelville players found Sullivan an easy riddle. The
first man up let drive a sizzling grounder between shortstop and third
baseman, and, by good running, barely made second ahead of the ball.
The following batter worried the pitcher until in the end he was sent
to first on four balls. Laurelville was yelling and whooping at a great
rate.
“Here’s where we score!” cried the coachers back of first and third.
“Any old thing will do, Eddie! A nice little three-bagger, if you can!
You can’t miss ’em! He’s easy, he is! On your toes there, Jack! Down
with his arm, old man! _Hey!_”
Then the third batsman cracked out a nice safe hit that was just two
feet out of first baseman’s reach, and although right fielder managed
to get the ball to the plate in time to send the foremost runner
doubling back to third, the bases were full, and there were no outs.