WALTER’S ILLNESS
Dan and Ned proceeded directly to the dressing-room, the former
somewhat downcast and the latter more lively even than he was wont to
be. “How do you feel?” he laughingly inquired of his friend as the two
boys entered the room.
“I have felt better,” replied Dan quietly.
“What’s the trouble? Are your pedal extremities chilly?”
“I have not noticed anything of that kind.”
“Afraid?”
“Not of the Military Academy nine, if that’s what you mean.”
“What then?”
“Where is Walter?” Dan abruptly asked.
“I haven’t seen him since we left the dining-hall,” replied Ned,
glancing keenly at his friend as he spoke. “He’ll be here all right.
You don’t need to worry about Walter, Dan.”
“Honestly, Ned, do you think there was anything in that change of
glasses? I’ll own up that I’ve――――”
“Anything in the lemonade?” broke in Ned hastily.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I guess I do,” acknowledged Ned. “Of all the vile tricks I ever
heard of, that is the worst; that is, if there really was anything in
what Gus was doing. It doesn’t seem possible that he or Walter could
stoop to――――”
“I’m waiting for Walter,” interrupted Dan. “I’ll know when he comes. If
he had a hand in that――――”
“What if he did? That’s just one more reason for showing the fellows
to-day that you can’t be put out of the game that way.”
“It isn’t that.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I can’t make myself believe that Walter Borden would stoop to such a
low-down trick. Why, only last summer he was one of the best fellows I
ever saw. He was generous; he’d give away his last cent――――”
“If it didn’t cost him anything to do it.”
“All the boys liked him. He was just a little bit cocksure that he
could give us all points on the game, but he was straight and true as
steel――at least I thought he was.”
“Maybe it’s all right yet. That was a slick thing you did.”
“What did I do?”
“When you changed your glass for his.”
“I’m sorry now that I did that.”
“I don’t see why you should be. If he’s sick, it’s his own fault.
If he can’t play on the nine to-day I’ll put Sam Ventnor at short.
He’s almost as good as Walter anyway. If Walter could play short just
half as well as he thinks he can he’d get the fielding average of the
league.”
“I wish he’d come,” said Dan.
“Don’t worry. If he doesn’t come it will be because he has been
studying harder than he ever has in his life before.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Why, all I mean is that if he is taking a dose of his own medicine
he will be the better off for it. If he isn’t taking it, then you’ve
nothing to worry about as far as I can see.”
The dressing-room was well filled now, and it became difficult to
carry on conversation. The excited boys were all striving to appear
indifferent, but their attempts were not altogether successful. Neither
Gus nor Walter had come and their absence was beginning to be noticed.
“What has become of Gus and Walter?” inquired Hodge as he drew on his
shoes. “I never knew either of them to be late at a game.”
“They’ll show up,” said Smith.
“Or down,” suggested Ned.
“What’s the difference?” asked Smith lightly. “It’s all one to me.”
“There’s a big difference.”
“I don’t see it.”
“Well, suppose you should go into a hotel and ask the clerk for the
price of rooms――――”
“I’ve done that many a time. I was in the Gorton last Easter
vacation――――”
“What did he tell you?”
“Who――the clerk? He said they had rooms from two dollars up.”
“Well, now suppose he had said, after he’d looked you over, that in
your case the price of rooms would be two down. Would that make any
difference, Smith?”
“Yes,” laughed Smith. “I think it would. But I don’t see――――”
“Here comes Gus Kiggins!” broke in one of the nine. “Walter is his
shadow, and he can’t be very far away. Hello, Gus!” he added. “What
made you late? Where’s Walter?”
“He’s sick,” replied Gus gruffly as he began to don his suit.
“Sick!” exclaimed Hodge, as he and the other members of the nine
crowded about Gus. “What’s the matter with him?”
“Ask somebody who knows!” retorted Gus, as he looked angrily at Dan. “I
can’t tell you.”
“Won’t he be able to play?” asked Ned.
“That’s more than I know. There wasn’t anybody to stand by him, so I
stayed with him in his room till just now. He has been vomiting and
he’s lying on his bed now. His face is as white as chalk.” Gus glared
at Dan while he was speaking, until the others also turned and looked
questioningly at the young pitcher.
“Did Dan make him sick?”
“Ask him. He can tell you better than I can,” growled Gus.
“Dan, did you do anything to him?” Ned asked quizzically as he turned
to his friend.
“What could I do?” replied Dan, his face betraying his trouble.
“Did you send for a doctor?” asked Hodge of Gus.
“No. Walter wouldn’t let me.”
“Why not?” inquired Ned.
“He said he’d be all right in a little while.”
“Probably something he ate,” suggested Hodge.
“Or drank,” said Ned in a low voice.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Gus, turning sharply to Ned.
“If you don’t know, I can’t explain. Come on, Dan,” he added, turning
to the pitcher. “Come on; we’ll run up to the room and take a look at
the poor chap.
“We’ll be back by the time the rest of you are on the field. If we
aren’t, Samson will bat flies for you.”
Abruptly departing from the dressing-room, Dan and Ned ran to the
dormitory and in a brief time entered Walter’s room. They found him
standing beside the table and his pale face and general appearance at
once betrayed his suffering.
“What’s the trouble, Walter?” inquired Ned. “Are you sick?”
“Awfully,” groaned Walter.
“Had the doctor?” continued Ned.
“I don’t want any doctor.”
“If you’re sick you ought to have one.”
“I’ll be all right in a little while. I’ll get into the game too,
before it’s ended!” he added savagely. “You can’t put me out in any
such way as this!” The angry boy was looking directly at Dan as he
spoke.
“You act as if you thought Dan was to blame,” said Ned.
“Well, what if I do?” demanded Walter testily. “He knows whether or not
he had anything to do with it.”
“Yes, I guess we all know that without asking Dan,” said Ned quietly.
“We’ll have to start the game, Walter, without you. If you feel better
a little later――――”
“Who’s going to play short?” broke in Walter.
“I’ll put Sam Ventnor in for a while.”
“It’s just a part of a trick to shut me out,” declared Walter fiercely.
“Let me tell you what will be good for you,” interrupted Ned in a low
voice.
“Why don’t you say it?” asked Walter sharply as Ned waited.
“Have you ever thought of trying ipecac?”
“Have I what?” Walter was staring at Ned, and to the two boys it almost
seemed that his pallor deepened.
“Have you thought of trying ipecac?” repeated Ned soberly. “It’s said
to be good for some things as well as for others.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Think it over and perhaps you’ll find out. If you don’t, ask Gus
Kiggins. He may be able to help you find out. If you feel better,
Walter, come down to the field.”
“Walter,” inquired Dan, who had been silent throughout the conversation,
“don’t you want me to stay here with you?”
“And not pitch?” demanded Ned, aghast, as he turned to his friend.
“I guess Walter will be all right by the time I’m needed.”
“No! I don’t want you here!” almost shouted Walter. “I wish you never
had been here! You’ve made trouble ever since you entered. I was a
fool――――”
“Don’t say ‘was,’ say ‘am,’” broke in Ned sharply. “That’s a fine way
to talk! You know what is the matter with you just as well as I do. And
Gus Kiggins came down to the dressing-room talking in his charming way
about somebody that had made you sick. Well, I guess somebody did give
you a dose! It would have done you more good if he had doubled it. And
you thought it was for Dan! Sometime, maybe, you’ll know enough to know
that the cat which a monkey uses to pull his chestnuts out of the fire
gets his paws burned. It would serve you right if I told the whole
school about the dirty trick you and Gus planned to play on Dan. Now
that you have a dose of your own medicine, you sit up here and whine
and cry like a spanked baby.”
“Come on, Ned, it’s time for the game,” broke in Dan as he grasped his
friend by the arm. “Walter,” he added, “you heard what Ned said, that
if you feel up to the mark a little later, you are to come on down and
he’ll put you into the game. Come on, Ned!”
Almost reluctantly Ned turned and without another word departed from
the room. At the door Dan glanced back at Walter who, speechless, was
staring at his departing visitors. Aware that Ned was almost beside
himself with rage, Dan led the way hastily down the stairs. As the boys
turned toward the athletic field, Dan said: “Now, Ned, you are in no
condition to say anything. Don’t say a word about this to the boys.”
“Why not?” demanded Ned fiercely. “It’s the worst thing I ever heard
of!”
“Don’t say a word about it.”
“I shall! I’ll let the whole school know――――”
“Not if I am to pitch,” said Dan quietly.