CONCLUSION
Dan was motionless a moment as he stood facing the next batter, whom
he knew to be the heaviest hitter on the opposing nine. It was plain
too, that the crowd also was aware of this fact, for loud cheers for
White rang out as the batter advanced to the plate. There were repeated
appeals for a “home run” and for the player to “bring in everybody.”
Indeed, in the prevailing excitement, the call did not appear to be
unreasonable. White showed plainly that he was prepared to do his
utmost and a moment of weakness on the part of the pitcher would be
fatal.
The wild shouts of the spectators sounded in Dan’s ears as if they were
far away. Even the treble cry that arose alone like a discordant note
from the supporters of the Tait School was not heeded by the young
pitcher. He removed his cap and wiped his forehead before he stepped
into his box. He saw Ned’s outstretched hands and read his sign for his
best drop. Shaking his head as a sign that he understood, Dan glanced
at the men on bases. The runner on second was far from his base and
with his arms hanging loose was moving up and down the line as if he
were a jumping-jack or a figure strung on wires. The runner on first
started as if he were about to speed toward second. Dan responded by a
quick throw to first, which just failed to catch the nimble runner as
he safely regained his base and immediately began to repeat his tactics
when Dan again prepared to pitch.
This time Dan was not to be diverted, and he smiled grimly when the
umpire called a strike. His smile deepened when the batter struck
viciously at the next ball and sent a foul far behind Ned. Two strikes!
The Tait School contingent seemed to regain a brief moment of hope and
sent up a cheer. When White was called out on strikes as the next ball
sped past him, a sharp yell, almost like the report of a pistol, broke
from the excited schoolboys and the protests of the chagrined batter
as he turned upon the umpire were speedily checked by the calls of the
assembly to “Play ball! Play ball!” Three men were still on bases and
there was only one out.
Again a batter faced Dan and the latter was quick to see that the
player before him was not only nervous but timid. Suddenly exerting all
his strength the young pitcher sent the ball with terrific speed across
the plate.
“Strike!” called the umpire promptly.
Responding to Ned’s signal for a quick repetition Dan again shot the
ball straight across the plate and the batter, not fully prepared for
the swift delivery, struck too late.
“Strike two!” called the umpire.
A “ball” and a foul followed in quick succession and then Dan signaled
that his favorite ball was to follow. Lifting high his arms as if he
were striving to gain every ounce of strength he possessed he sent in
the ball in the midst of a silence that was most eloquent of the deep
feeling of the assembly.
The batter, with every nerve tense, braced himself and swung heavily
upon what he believed was to be another swift ball. So completely was
he deceived by Dan’s delivery that he struck before the ball reached
him――a ball that rose slowly into the air, then almost seemed to stop
and hesitate as it neared the plate, and then with a sudden drop shot
in toward the batter.
“Three strikes! Striker out!” called the umpire sharply.
The cheers now were almost as deafening from the supporters of the
Tait School nine as they were from their opponents. Three men still
were on the bases, but two batters had struck out in quick succession.
Everything now depended upon the next player to face Dan. Even a single
hit would mean two runs. If Dan could only strike out the fellow his
work would stand almost alone in the history of the school. Every boy
was now watching the young pitcher. Was he nervous? The wild antics of
the men on the bases redoubled. The runner on second took an additional
lead and acted as if still more wires had been strung for him.
But Dan was not to be diverted. He was deeply aroused, for he
understood better than anyone the test that was upon him. He resumed
his position in the box, once more looked at the runners, then ignoring
their antics sent the ball in. A report like the crack of a falling
branch followed and a wild shout went up as the ball was batted far
back into the crowd along the left-field line. The applause instantly
died away when it was seen that it was a foul. Ned slapped his hands
together as he stooped to face Dan again. A “ball,” “two balls,” were
then called and the wild roar from the assembly was of the mingled
appeals of the rival factions. “A hit!” “Strike him out!” “Don’t let
him get his base!” were among the frantic appeals of the excited
spectators. Dan was unusually deliberate now. He looked long at the
batter as if once more he was endeavoring to ascertain just what his
weakness might be. Ned gave the signal for one of Dan’s swiftest
low inshoots. The young pitcher nodded his head as a token that he
understood. Drawing back his arm he delivered the ball as Ned had
called for it.
“Three balls!” shouted the umpire promptly. People were standing on
the benches now, apparently the excitement having passed all control.
Parasols and banners were waving, as well as hats and arms. A scene of
almost indescribable confusion was everywhere manifest.
“Two strikes!” called the umpire.
The noise of the assembly instantly subsided, as every spectator now
watched Dan. “This ball will tell the story,” was the word heard in low
tones on every side of the field.
Once more Ned gave the signal for Dan’s deceptive slow ball. Dan agreed
and became still more deliberate in his movements. Amidst the profound
silence that had settled over the field he again turned slowly and gave
the signal for his players to move a little farther in. Ignoring the
clapping of hands and the renewed antics of the men on the bases he
slowly raised his hands far above his head, turned swiftly about, and
sent in the decisive ball. To all appearances he had used every muscle
in his lithe body to give speed to the little sphere, but once more the
ball rose slowly, then again almost seemed to stop as if to tantalize
the batter and shot in swiftly toward the player, who had lunged
heavily and almost swung himself about in his determination to hit.
Before the umpire could be heard everyone in the great crowd knew the
man was out and that Dan had performed the almost impossible feat of
striking out three men in succession when the bases were filled. But
if appearances were the measure, Dan Richards in his quiet way was the
least concerned of all as, ignoring the cheers of the entire assembly,
he walked to the bench.
The Tait School nine, however, failed in their turn at the bat to do
any better or even as well as their opponents had done. The first two
players ignominiously struck out and Dan, in spite of the loud cheers
that greeted him when he walked to the plate, sent a slowly rolling
grounder toward first base, which the baseman easily secured and
touched out the runner on the line.
Indeed, neither side succeeded in scoring until the fifth inning.
In the four preceding innings the Tait School boys had made three
scattered hits, not one of which placed a man beyond second base. On
the Military Academy side White, the heaviest hitter, the second time
he came to bat, sent a long liner over Smith’s head in the outfield,
but by a great throw the runner was held on third and left there when
the next batter struck out and retired the side.
The noisy demonstrations of the crowd largely ceased as the game
proceeded. The boys were playing a wonderful game for schoolboys and
the opposing pitchers were doing marvelous work. Dan had struck out
seven and his opponent five when the fifth inning began.
Walter, the first batter, was struck on the elbow by a pitched ball.
For a moment the pain was almost unbearable and the lad twisted and
writhed in his suffering, but pluckily refusing to have anyone run for
him he proceeded to his base. On the first ball pitched he started
swiftly for second base and as he threw himself forward and slid to
the bag a cloud of dust arose that for a moment almost blinded him.
Instantly hearing the coaches call him to third he arose and dashed
for the base not knowing where the ball was or what had occurred.
Again sliding as he drew near the third-baseman, who was standing with
outstretched hands he gained the place in safety before the ball, which
had been thrown over the head of the second-baseman, was returned to
third. As Walter was the fleetest runner on his nine, the chances
seemed good to the friends of the school that a run would be secured,
as only one was out.
When Streator sent a ball between short-stop and third base Walter
dashed home with his run, while Streator started swiftly to second, but
was thrown out by the catcher. The next batter was retired on a short
infield fly, but the school nine had secured one run and was leading.
Another run was secured in the following inning by a hit which was
followed by a long drive into right field by Ned, but he himself was
left on third. At the beginning of the eighth inning the score stood
two to nothing and the Tait School nine were beginning to be looked
upon as the winners of the game.
In that inning, however, a base on balls, a hit, and an error by
Hodge placed two of the academy players on bases and as they quickly
attempted a double steal, Ned threw swiftly to Hodge on third base. A
groan arose from the supporters of the nine when the ball went far over
Hodge’s head and before he had raced back and secured it both players
had run home and the score was tied!
Again pandemonium seemed to reign among the spectators. Every play and
every player was wildly cheered, but both nines failed to score in the
ninth inning. The tenth and eleventh innings also failed to produce a
run for either side. In the twelfth, however, Walter made a hit and
again stole second. Ned came to bat with sturdy determination to do or
die. The first ball proved to be a strike, then a ball and a strike
quickly followed. The next ball he struck with all his might and sent
it swiftly down the line directly over third base and before the ball
was sent in from left field Walter raced home with another run.
By one consent the spectators rose as the academy nine came to bat in
the twelfth inning. Every player was tense and all realized how much
depended upon the efforts of everyone.
A shrill cry of delight when the first man struck out was followed by
a groan when the short fly of the next batter was squarely muffed by
Streator. The runner started for second on the first ball pitched, but
when Ned’s throw was easily caught and the runner was out a renewed
shout of glee went up. When the next batter at last struck out there
was a wild scene. Boys and men rushed upon the field and singing,
shouting, dancing in their excitement, started for Dan. The young
pitcher, however, had fled for the dressing-room and was nowhere to be
seen. It was enough that the game and the championship had been won.
The following day the nine met to elect a captain for the following
year. When Ned called the meeting to order and declared nominations to
be in order, there was only one name presented――that of Dan Richards.
Slowly rising in his seat, Dan said quietly: “I thank you, fellows,
for the honor you have given me. I didn’t want you to do it. I’ve got
enough to do to try to do my work in the box without the other. If you
are willing I’d rather have you leave me free. I think Walter would
make a good captain. He made two of the three runs in the last game――――”
A storm of protests arose, which were led by Walter himself, but
all that Dan would agree to was to wait until fall before he would
definitely decide.
The day after the closing of the school Dan and Walter were seated
together in the train that was swiftly carrying them to Rodman.
“Walter,” said Dan slowly, when at last the two boys were near their
destination, “I’m not very much of a talker. I never have said much to
you about what you have done for me――――”
“Don’t say a word, Dan,” broke in Walter, his face flushing. “You’re
not the one to talk.”
“Who is, then?”
“I am.”
“You!”
“Yes, sir. When I think what a fool I’ve been and how I treated you――――”
“Don’t say any more,” interrupted Dan.
“Yes, I will say more,” protested Walter. “All the while I was chasing
around with Gus Kiggins, I knew I was a fool. I never believed I could
do it, but I did and there’s no use in trying to deny it.”
“You didn’t do anything to me.”
“Then it wasn’t because I didn’t try. But I’ve got a new start now. I
wrote my father so the other day. I told him too, all about you and
that if it hadn’t been for you I’d have gone all the way with Gus.”
“For me? Why, I haven’t done anything.”
“You didn’t do so much, Dan. It was what you were that made me feel
like a goat all the time.”
Dan was silent a moment before he said quietly: “It has been the
greatest year of my life. I can’t understand, though, why all the
fellows have treated me as they have.”
“Can’t you?” laughed Walter. “Well, I can. Say, Dan, that new league is
a great success, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Wait till we get the track and the football going, as we shall next
year! You’re going in for the eleven, aren’t you?”
“Samson wants me to.”
“So do we all. It will be greater next year than it was this, though I
hope never to see another such game as that with the academy nine. You
struck out fifteen.”
“There’s Si waiting for us on the platform,” suddenly suggested Dan, as
the boys obtained a glimpse of the Rodman station.
“Do you suppose he has heard of that game, Dan?” laughed Walter.
“We’ll soon know,” replied Dan with a smile as he stepped out upon the
platform, where the outstretched hand of the harness-maker grasped his
first of all.
“I say, Dan,” demanded Silas, “I hear ye beat ’em all.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, sir, I did! Have the New Yorks said anything to you yet?”
“Not yet,” laughed Dan.
“Wait till you hear of what Dan does next year,” suggested Walter.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.