A TRY-OUT
It was so early in the school year that opportunities for talking over
the new boys had of necessity been limited. The fact that Walter had a
new roommate who was somewhat “green” had been noticed and smilingly
commented upon, but what he was able to do in the school life was
unknown. Indeed, with the exception of two or three of Walter’s closest
friends, to whom he had enthusiastically described Dan’s success as a
pitcher, the matter had not been referred to.
As the football team claimed the chief interest of the school at this
time there were only a few besides the two scrub nines present when the
game began, a fact for which Dan was deeply thankful.
“Your agricultural friend is as strong as an ox and he has a good swing
with his bat, but he hasn’t any more idea of team work than he has of
trout-fishing in Mars,” Ned in a low voice had said to Walter as the
latter passed him to take his position as short-stop. “We’ll see now
what he can do.”
“Yes; you keep your eyes open,” retorted Walter confidently. Dan caught
the ball which Walter threw him and then in turn began to throw it
about the diamond. He had not had an opportunity to warm up and several
weeks had elapsed since he had had a ball in his hand. To most of the
players, the game was only a “scrub” anyway, but to Dan, as no one
realized more fully than he, there were larger issues at stake. His
quiet manner, however, was unchanged and only Walter was aware how
eager his friend was to do well.
The opposing batter now advanced to the plate and Dan caught the ball,
settled back in the pitcher’s box, swung his arm once or twice, and
then pitched the ball. His action was not graceful and the ball was
not swift.
The batter struck at it, but failed to hit it, although the failure
apparently was due to his own weakness. A straight swift ball produced
a second strike, and then in accordance with the signals and plan
of action to which Ned and Dan had agreed before they assumed their
positions in the field, the pitcher sent in his “pet,” a form of
delivery to which Moulton had devoted much time and pains.
The ball sped swiftly as it left Dan’s hands and though it came fairly
over the plate the batter stepped back as if in fear of being hit.
“Here, you timid creature, why don’t you strike at a good ball when you
get it?” demanded Ned sharply of the batter.
“It didn’t come within a mile of the plate,” retorted the batter.
“Come here, Chesty!” called Ned, turning to the spectators. “Come on
and umpire this game. This fellow can’t tell whether the ball is going
to hit him or whether it started in the other direction.”
“Yea, I’ll do that,” responded “Lord Chesterfield” as he arose,
carefully brushed his clothes with his hands, and took the position to
which he had been called.
“Two strikes on this fellow,” said Ned as he replaced his mask and gave
his chest-protector a pull. “Now go ahead. Call it two balls. I don’t
know just how many he deserves.” Signaling to Dan to repeat his last
effort Ned stretched forth his hands for his pitcher to begin again.
Once more Dan sent in a swift inshoot, that as it came to the plate
suddenly appeared to turn and vindictively try to hit the player at the
bat.
“Three balls,” called Chesty glibly.
Ned glared at him as in duty bound, but did not speak as he returned
the ball to Dan.
“Four balls! Take your base!” shouted Chesty once more, after Dan had
pitched another ball.
Ned started to protest, but a low laugh from Dan caused him to check
the word he was about to speak and he returned the ball.
The second boy to bat obtained the same result as his predecessor, and
two were on bases.
“Careful, Dan,” called Walter in a low voice from his position as
short-stop. “Take it easy. Don’t try too hard.”
Dan did not reply, but swinging about he threw the ball swiftly to
second base and the runner was caught at least two feet away.
“That’s the way to do it!” called Ned. “Now look sharp and we’ll have
this fellow on strikes,” he added as the third boy advanced to the
plate.
Dan responded with a ball so swift and unexpected that Ned dropped it.
“Ball!” shouted Chesty. And as Dan sent in three more that came with
equal speed, he declared that each was a ball and allowed the batter to
take his base.
“What’s the trouble, Dan?” called Walter.
“Nothing,” responded Dan.
“Get them over the plate.”
“They are,” said Dan quietly. “Your umpire can’t see straight.”
However, Dan apparently did not try to pitch his best. He retired the
side after one run had been made and twice the ball had been hit into
the infield.
“No use,” he explained to Walter as they walked in together. “The
fellow either can’t or won’t see. I’ll just give them easy ones and let
them go.”
“No; don’t do that. Chesty will see after a bit,” protested Walter. But
Dan was perverse and for several innings pitched a slower ball which
occasionally was hit, though most of the boys that faced him struck out.
“I don’t know,” said Ned to Walter, after an hour had elapsed. “He has
speed if he lets himself out, but he’s as wild as a hawk. Doesn’t seem
to know just where the plate is or what it is for.”
“Dan says Chesty can’t or won’t see.”
“Here come the fellows from the football field,” said Ned quickly, as
the eleven were seen approaching on their way to the dressing-room.
“I’m going to ask Gus Kiggins and some of the fellows to come in and
bat. There’s Samson too,” he added. “I’ll have him call strikes and
balls. We’ll see now what we’ll see.”
In response to Ned’s call four of the boys stopped and acting upon
Ned’s suggestion quickly agreed to face Dan. The physical instructor
good-naturedly agreed to decide as to the balls and strikes and took a
position behind Ned.
The scrub game had served to “warm up” Dan and, as Walter keenly
watched him, more eager than he would have acknowledged to have his
words of praise proved true, he smiled as he noticed that Dan settled
back in a way he recognized and understood. Whenever Dan had his
present expression Walter had no fear.
Hodge, the heavy right tackle on the football team and the heaviest
hitter on the school nine, smilingly grasped a bat and faced the
pitcher. Gathering himself together Hodge struck at the first ball Dan
sent in, but his bat failed to reach the elusive little sphere and he
joined in the laugh that greeted his efforts.
“Look out, Hodge,” called Gus Kiggins. “It’ll come back and hit you!”
His tones were bantering and it was plain that he was not looking upon
the work of the new boy in any serious way.
Again Dan sent in the ball, this time even swifter than before, but as
it reached the plate it suddenly seemed to rise in the air and Hodge
struck several inches beneath it. An expression of surprise, almost of
chagrin, appeared upon the face of the tall player and as he looked
again at Dan there was an added element of interest in his expression.
Once more the pitcher turned himself about and Hodge braced himself for
even a swifter ball, but in spite of Dan’s contortions the ball slowly
rose and Hodge had struck at it long before it had crossed the plate.
“You’re out!” called Samson sharply to the batter, though he was
looking keenly at Dan as he spoke.
“Come on, Smith. Try your luck,” said Hodge to one of the other boys
who was standing with a bat in his hand awaiting his turn.
Smith, stout, stolid, manifestly possessed of great strength, advanced
laughingly to the plate and keenly watched Dan. He struck viciously at
the first ball and a long foul followed. He lunged at the next ball,
but it seemed to dodge his bat. He looked again at the pitcher, grasped
his bat more firmly, and then swung quickly at the ball which Dan sent
in with his utmost strength. “Strike!” called Samson, then turning to
the catcher, who had dropped the ball, he said, “What’s the trouble,
Ned? Can’t you hold him?”
“Go ahead,” replied Ned grimly, bracing himself.
Again the ball came swiftly, but Smith once more failed to hit, and
when Dan repeated his experiment with Hodge by sending a slow ball and
the batter struck at it long before it reached him Smith good-naturedly
exclaimed as he threw down his bat, “No use, fellows. You can’t find
the ball.”
Gus Kiggins now walked to the plate. Without knowing who was facing
him, Dan felt that there was opposition keen and strong expressed in
the face of the player. The interest of all in the little group of
spectators was aroused now, and Walter, whose delight at Dan’s feat in
striking out the two heavy hitters of the school nine was unconcealed,
was watching the young pitcher with increasing eagerness. If Gus
Kiggins could be struck out too! “Dan,” he said in a low voice, “give
Gus a low drop. He can’t hit a low ball.”
Without betraying whether or not he had heard the suggestion, Dan
looked keenly at the batter and then sent in a sudden and terrifically
swift ball that crossed the plate before Gus had fairly drawn back his
bat. The ball was quickly returned by Ned, and again, with his sudden
quick swing, Dan threw the ball before Gus was fully aware.
“Two strikes!” called Samson in a low voice.
“You’re doing nobly!” laughed Hodge as he watched the batter. “Look
out for that third strike! The ball has a habit of stopping somewhere
up in the air and waiting for you to strike at it before it decides to
come on.”
“I’ll wait for it,” retorted Kiggins and a moment later he lunged
heavily at the ball which Dan threw with terrific speed.
“Three strikes! You’re out,” declared Samson.
“That’s enough,” said Dan as he dropped the ball and started from the
field.
“Give us another round. You caught us off our guard,” called Kiggins.
Without a protest, Dan once more picked up the ball, called to Ned to
take his position behind the bat, and prepared to resume his work.
Again in order the three players faced the new boy, but with the
exception of a high foul which Hodge raised, not one was able to hit
the ball.
“Come on, fellows!” called Walter as he raced in from the field. “This
is enough. I’ve grown stiff waiting for a ball to come my way. It
wouldn’t make any difference if you came to bat a dozen times. It would
be the same thing right over again.” Walter’s elation at Dan’s success
was great now. The three heavy hitters of the school nine had each
struck out twice in succession as they tried to hit the ball.
The face of Gus Kiggins was a study. Anger, chagrin, rage――all were
expressed in it. The sight caused Walter to laugh, for he thought he
understood the feelings of the burly player. His interest was keener
when he saw that Samson had advanced to Dan and was speaking warmly
to him. Ned, a moment later, joined the two and his enthusiasm was
unconcealed.
“Where did the country bumpkin come from?” asked Gus Kiggins of Walter.
“Oh, I found him this summer. He struck out fifteen in one game! He’s
a wonder! I guess we’ll all feel that the Tait School has somebody to
take Red’s place now.”
But Gus was scowling and looking at the new boy with unconcealed anger.
“Never mind, Gussie,” continued Walter in mock sympathy. “We’ll let you
carry the bats for the nine if you’ll be good.”
At that moment Dan approached the group, and as he drew near the
expression of contempt which he saw on the face of Gus Kiggins caused
him to stop and look inquiringly at his roommate.