A DISPUTE
“Tell him to get off the field,” said Walter in a low voice as he saw
the stout harness-maker approaching.
“Tell ye what, Dan,” roared Silas, “ye’re jest givin’ Benson somethin’
t’ think on. Our boys are jest knockin’ th’ cover right off th’ ball.”
“That doesn’t look like it,” responded Dan quietly as the Rodman batter
hit a little fly to the short-stop, who turned quickly and caught
one of the runners. It was the first occasion for a shout from the
followers of the Benson nine and the applause was as noisy as it was
prolonged. Two boys, one with a pitchfork in his hand, jumped down from
their seat in a farm wagon which they had driven to a place not far
from third base. “Hello, Si!” shouted one of the boys. “We’re goin’ t’
give you fellows a dose you’ll never forget.”
“Be ye?” retorted Silas, his round face shining under the heat and his
excitement. “If ye keep up as ye’ve begun, it’ll look like the ‘dose’
was somethin’ prepared special for Benson. Ye haven’t got a man t’
first base yet.”
“Just wait, Si――――”
“I am a-waitin’,” interrupted the harness-maker. “An’ so be you, I
guess. Doesn’t seem t’ be doin’ ye much good, though.”
“You haven’t got but two runs.”
“That’s jes’ two more’n you’ve got.”
“Wait till this inning is over.”
“All right. I’m pretty good at waitin’. If you get a fellow as far as
third I’ll give ye a new saddle.”
“The saddle is mine. I’ll stop for it on my way back t’ Benson.”
“An’ keep up th’ same waitin’ ye’ve been havin’, I guess.”
“Dan,” said Walter, as the two boys a few minutes later together walked
out to the field, “the keenness of Si’s wit is almost too much for me.
I don’t know but I’d better go out under the shade of that maple yonder
and rest up.”
The young pitcher, however, neither responded nor acted as if he saw
anything unusual in the boasting of the harness-maker. In a brief time
the game was resumed.
Again the first batter to face Dan struck out. The second was hit with
the ball, and a wild yell arose from the boy with a pitchfork, who
was still standing near third base. “Now run, Zeb!” he shouted to the
player, who was on first base ruefully rubbing his shoulder. “Never
mind a little thing like that! ’Twon’t hurt long! I’ll risk ye! If ye
get around home I’ll let ye ride back t’ Benson on my new saddle.”
Dan at that moment threw swiftly to his first-baseman, but the runner,
who perhaps was thinking more of his bruised shoulder than of the game,
unfortunately was directly in the way of the ball and was again hit by
the swiftly thrown sphere. Leaping to his feet with a yell, he shook
his fist at the pitcher and shouted, “Do that again an’ I’ll knock yer
head off!”
Instantly Dan threw the ball, which had been returned to him, and the
baseman touched the excited runner, who had incautiously advanced a
yard or more toward the pitcher.
“You’re out,” said Moulton quietly as the man was touched before he
could regain the base.
“I hain’t neither!” roared the angry player as he advanced threateningly
toward the umpire.
Ignoring the protest, the umpire motioned to Dan to resume his work and
the young pitcher instantly threw the ball.
“Strike!” called Moulton promptly.
“Look here, you!” said the angry player that had been declared out at
first. He had approached the umpire and wrathfully was facing him. “Do
you know what I’d give you for two cents?”
“Get off the field,” said Moulton quietly, scarcely glancing at him.
“I won’t get off! I tell ye I wa’n’t out at first. No, sir! That fellow
stood right in my way.”
“I told you to get off the field,” said Moulton again in a low voice.
“Mebbe you’ll put me off.”
Lifting his hand in token that time was called, Moulton turned to the
angered player and said, “I don’t want to make any trouble. If you
don’t know any better――――”
“I know what I’m talkin’ about!” interrupted the Bensonite. “I’m
telling you I wa’n’t out on first.”
“I called you out.”
“I know ye did, but that doesn’t make it so, does it?”
“Yes. Now leave the field and take your seat.”
The silence among the spectators was tense as the eyes of everyone were
turned toward the two boys. “That’s Jim Fuller,” said the farmer boy
who, still holding his pitchfork in his hand, was standing beside Silas
near third base. “He’s the best wrestler in Benson. That umpire doesn’t
want t’ rile him.”
“Don’t ye worry none ’bout th’ umpire,” retorted Silas promptly. “I
rather guess he c’n give an’ ’count o’ himself if he has to.”
Both became silent a moment as the protesting Benson player looking
angrily at Moulton, finally said: “You’re a robber, but I’m goin’ t’
let ye have your way this time. But if ye call me out again when I
hain’t out――why, jes’ look out for yerself. That’s all I’ve got t’
say t’ ye.” As the Benson player turned to seek the place where the
fellow-members of his nine were seated, a derisive shout from the
Rodman supporters greeted him and he instantly turned and faced the
noisy crowd as he shook his fist at them. The game was resumed as
Moulton quietly tossed the ball to Dan.
Whether it was due to the excitement or because he was not keenly
watching the batter Walter did not know, but the third batter rapped a
ball feebly toward the short-stop and as Walter seized it and threw it
high above the head of the first-baseman the runner gained second and
then started toward third.
“Get that ball! Don’t let th’ feller get third! I don’t want t’ give up
a new saddle!” roared Silas.
Walter heard the shouts of Silas above the wild yells of the dancing
Bensonites, who were leaping and slapping their thighs and emitting
wild shouts in their excitement. The first-baseman now had recovered
the ball and threw it fiercely to overtake the runner. In his eagerness
Walter leaped and caught the ball, which had been thrown high, and as
he came down he fell directly upon the runner and both lay sprawling
upon the ground. Wriggling from the place, the Benson player crawled
over the intervening yard and lay with his outstretched hand grasping
the third base. “Never touched me!” he shouted triumphantly.
“He’s out,” said Moulton quietly. The player, however, doggedly seated
himself upon the base and refused to move.
“Get off the field!” shouted Walter angrily. “Don’t you know how to
play ball?”
“You’re the whole thing, are you?” tauntingly called the Benson player,
who was calmly seated. “Maybe you’ve come up into the country to show
us greenhorns how the game is played.”
“I know enough not to dispute the umpire,” retorted Walter, his face
flushing with anger.
“It’s your umpire. He isn’t giving us any show at all. You didn’t touch
me with the ball and you know you didn’t!”
“I did touch you.”
“Go tell that to somebody that didn’t see it!”
By this time the players of both nines were assembled near the third
base, almost all of them shouting and gesticulating wildly. Dan
remained in his position near the box, but he was the only member of
the Rodman nine who had not run to join in the noisy altercation.
Suddenly in the midst of the confusion the runner leaped to his feet
and made a wild dash for the plate. As there was no one there to
prevent him he easily crossed, and turning to the scorer shouted:
“That’s a run for us! Don’t forget to set down that score for me. They
can’t work that on us, not when we have our eyes open!”
For a moment the confusion redoubled, the excited spectators rushing
upon the diamond and adding their noisy claims or protests to the
shouts of the rival players.
Moulton now quietly approached the assembly, and pushing his way into
the midst of the throng he said, “The runner was out.”
“No, he wasn’t either!” roared the captain of the Benson nine. “Your
man never touched him! He wasn’t out!”
“Look here!” said Moulton advancing upon the speaker. “You asked me to
umpire this game, didn’t you?”
“I suppose so,” growled the captain, “but we don’t intend to be
robbed――――”
“No one intends to rob you of anything,” broke in Moulton in a low
voice. “I saw the play. The man was out, that is all there is to it.”
“No one else saw it,” growled the captain.
“That may be true, but it doesn’t change matters. He was out. Now if
you want to play ball go on with the game. If you’d rather spend your
time wrangling like a lot of hoodlums, then that is your privilege.
Either go on with the game and tell your men to play ball as gentlemen
ought to play it or give it up and quit.”
The angry captain glared at the umpire a moment, then turned sulkily to
his companions and said: “Oh, well, come on, fellows! I suppose we’ll
have to give in, but we’ve got to play the umpire as well as the Rodman
nine.”
“I guess it isn’t the umpire, it’s the pitcher that bothers those
fellows,” said Walter to the third-baseman as the Benson players
sulkily walked to their positions on the field. “Dan is doing great
work!”
His words were overheard by the Benson player who had been the cause
of the interruption. Stopping abruptly, he glared at Walter a moment
and then said: “I guess if the pitcher didn’t do any better than your
short-stop does, it wouldn’t take long to wind up this game.”
“Don’t say anything, Walter,” said Dan as he came to the side of his
friend and quietly took his arm. “When a fellow is in the game he wants
to work the muscles in his arms and legs and back, but there are some
other muscles he doesn’t want to let get into the game at all.”
“You mean the muscles of his tongue?”
“Yes.”
“I never dispute the umpire anyway,” said Walter, his face flushing
slightly as he spoke.
“Don’t dispute the other nine. If there is any disputing to be done,
let them do it all.”
“But they were――――”
“Yes, I know,” broke in Dan. “But it doesn’t pay. Besides, it’s part of
the game to learn to control one’s self.”
“Dan, you’re a wonder!” exclaimed Walter good-naturedly. “If you’ll
strike out the men in one-two-three order the next inning, I’ll promise
not to say another word before the ninth inning.”
“I’ll do my best. You’re the first to bat.”
“Am I? I’d forgotten that in the excitement.” Seizing his bat Walter
advanced to the plate, and in his eagerness to redeem himself he struck
at the first ball and sent a slowly rolling grounder toward second. The
Benson second-baseman juggled the ball and Walter’s speed increased
as he dashed toward first. He was aware of the shrill exhortations
of Silas to “hump himself,” whatever that might mean, and just as he
gained the base the ball was caught by the baseman, who stood directly
in front of the base. The first-baseman was the one who had made the
trouble in the preceding inning, and a grin appeared on his face as he
looked at Walter. For an instant Walter was intensely angry and was
about to voice his protest. The sight of Dan, who had advanced to coach
the runner, however, instantly sobered him and he merely said, “A raw
deal, Dan,” as he passed his friend.
Dan scowled as he replied, “I know it, Walter, but let it go.”
As he rejoined his companions Walter did not refer to his recent
experience and seated himself to watch the progress of the game. A
base on balls and two hits netted two more runs and the stentorian
plaudits of the harness-maker were heard over all the field. The Benson
supporters were strangely silent as their nine came in once more to
bat. There was little shouting until the first player to face Dan
received his base on balls. Then the hopes of Benson revived and a wild
yell followed the player as he went to first base.