DICK SCORES A DEFEAT
"Well, what do you know about that!" ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and
Lanny were approaching the athletic field at a little after two on
Saturday. Ahead of them, as they turned the corner, was a group of some
fifty or sixty persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were quite
evidently waiting for the gate to open.
"And it isn't half-past two yet," said Lanny. "Looks as if we were going
to have an audience, after all, Fudge."
"Bet you they don't know they have to pay a quarter," responded the
other pessimistically.
"Then they're blind, because there's a notice right beside the gate
there."
"Someone ought to find Tim and get him here," said Fudge anxiously.
"They might change their minds and go away again!"
"What time is he supposed to get here?"
"I don't know. Half-past, I suppose." They passed through a smaller gate
which led to the dressing-room and found Dick and Gordon already on
hand. Fudge told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by agreeing
to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner appeared. Five minutes
later the first two or three rows of the grandstand were occupied, and
spectators were still dribbling through the gate and depositing quarters
in Dick's hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless soon after and relieved
Dick. Some thirty Rutter's Point residents accompanied their team and
still further swelled the audience, and by three o'clock Dick estimated
that fully a hundred and sixty persons had paid admission. That was much
better than anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a lightning
calculation, confided to Gordon that there'd be thirty dollars coming to
the club after Rutter's Point had received the twenty-five per cent.
agreed on.
"If we can do that often enough," said Lanny delightedly, "we'll have
more than enough for----"
"S-sh!" cautioned Gordon.
"He's over there talking to Billings. Who is the kid with him?"
"That's young Townsend, the fellow he's coaching. It's about time to
start, isn't it? There come three more, Lanny."
"Every little quarter helps," replied Lanny. "I hope Tim Turner doesn't
abscond with the cash! Someone ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh,
Fudge!"
"What's wanted?" asked Fudge, joining them.
"We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with the money you will have
to make good."
Fudge grinned. "He's awfully excited," he said. "He's got both pockets
full of silver, and sounds like a treasury when he moves. He's terribly
worried because he gave one fellow too much change. He says he knows
him, though, and is going to get it back!"
"Come on," said Gordon. "On the run, fellows. You're in right field,
Shores. Throw out another ball, Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!"
A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley, and the game began.
The batting list of the visiting team had been changed in two instances,
Jensen replacing Morris Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead
of Porter. Melville, or "Mel," Mason was a big youth of eighteen at
least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner that impressed Dick and
filled him with forebodings of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services
of Jack Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance in a
purple uniform and holding down Jack's place in right field. The umpire
was Mr. Cochran, physical director at the Young Men's Christian
Association, and a great favorite among the boys.
Rutter's Point failed to do anything in the first inning. Tom Haley
allowed only one player to reach first, and he got no farther. When
Clearfield came to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved its
loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged cheering. It was very
soon evidenced that "Mel" Mason was in a different class from Bede
Porter as a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither Dick nor
Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge's admiring and slightly resentful
expression, he was "some pitchist!" He had plenty of speed when he cared
to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow ball that was probably
patterned on the "floater" of a famous league pitcher. The Clearfield
batters hit under it or over it with discouraging regularity, and Harry,
Will, and Gordon went out in order in the last of the first inning, only
Will managing to hit into fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.
For three innings the contest was a pitchers' battle. Tom was in
excellent shape, and, although he secured fewer strike-outs than his
rival, managed to hold his own with the assistance of sharp fielding by
his team-mates. If there were those among the spectators who had come to
scoff at the kind of ball they were to see they must have been
surprised, for both teams played a practically errorless game until the
beginning of the fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to make up for them.
It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris' place, who started things
going in the fourth. Loring Townsend had flied out to Pete Robey, making
the first out. With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached for
an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and deposited it neatly
behind Gordon and close to the foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop,
tried twice to bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went to
third. House was over-anxious and went out on strikes, and Chase got to
second. Then Leary waited and got his base. With the bags all occupied
and two men down, it was up to "Pink" Northrop to come to the rescue
with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping and shouting like mad, and
Tom might have been excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
Tom settled down, followed Lanny's signals closely, and at last, after
working two strikes over on Northrop, caused that youth to hit weakly to
third. Will Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but Gordon
pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was over.
Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a high one to second
baseman, and Pete Robey faced Mason with little expectation of faring
any better. But Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
two gone he could afford to take things easy, and Pete shot a hot liner
at third baseman. Caspar Billings got his hands on it, but it trickled
past him, and Pete was safe. That doubtful error--Dick charitably scored
it as a hit--seemed the signal for the Point to go up in the air. Mason
whipped a quick throw to first which would have caught Pete flat-footed
off the bag had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn't, however,
and the ball went past him to the fence, and Pete, finding his feet
quickly, shot to second and then on to third, beating out the throw by a
fraction of an inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers over
Mr. Cochran's decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting at the plate, swung
twice in his eagerness to score the runner, and then waited while Mason
teased him with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls against him,
Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung against the next one. Shortstop
knocked it down but couldn't find it again in time to throw either to
the plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited whooping of
the audience, scored her first tally.
Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and, although Houghton
threw quickly and well to that bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny
Shores, who was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad when
Mason grimly turned his attention to him again. Quite a few of Danny's
friends from the factory were on hand to see him perform, and when,
after the third delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
sent it streaking just over second baseman's head, they shouted
themselves hoarse in Danny's honor. On the bench, Jack Tappen looked a
bit glum. He had visions of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first. Fudge tried to do his
share of a hit-and-run play, but he swung far wide of the deceptive
drop, and Danny was caught at second and the inning was over, with
Clearfield two runs to the good.
Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the stand, and they "rooted"
valiantly for Clearfield throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth
the Point got two men on bases, and was in good position to score, there
being but one out, when Pete Robey pulled down a liner that had been
distinctly labeled "two bases," raced to second ahead of the runner, and
then completed the double by making a fine throw to Gordon. Mason struck
out Tom easily in the last of the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will
Scott, and then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.
Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience was by this time
perched on the edges of the seats. Again in their half of the sixth
Rutter's Point found Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that Tom was less of a
puzzle now than in the earlier innings, and it seemed only a matter of
time when the Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have to
credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose that Dick was
doing nothing but keeping the score. He was managing that game from the
bench as scientifically as if he had played the game all his short life.
Every batsman got his orders from Dick before he stepped to the plate,
and every coacher was instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to score a ball game. In
spite of his indifference two days before, Harold had appeared with a
brand-new, black-covered score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied him with a pencil
instead. Harold seated himself by Dick and watched and learned. He made
more mistakes than enough, and his score when finished was a veritable
hodge-podge of misinformation, but he seemed to get a lot of excitement
and fun out of it, and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite the batsman and a
run by marking up an equally enormous I. When he began to memorize the
symbols for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball, and so on,
he discovered that scoring was not the simple task he had thought it.
About the sixth inning he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and
contented himself with disposing of the batsmen with his X's and I's.
But by that time the excitement had grown so intense that it would have
required a person with a much cooler head than Harold's to keep his mind
on scoring.
Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add
another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick
realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would
find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted
Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon
had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a
clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was
to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don't always carry through.
Dick's didn't on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason's hands,
and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way
bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete
flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the
inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and
prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently
from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the
impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second.
Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base
line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits
must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the
bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
past him hardly out of arm's length, but hurled the ball across to
first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was
required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his
decision.
And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully
stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the
midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before,
writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had
described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had
gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds
turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous
pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful
bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring
the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced
Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered
whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable
to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A
two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
sound more plausible.
Dick's voice from the bench reached him as Mason, after glancing over
the bases, wound up. "Make him pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!"
Back and forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry Bryan and
Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat tighter yet and glued his eyes to
the upraised hands of Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty
one, streaked toward him; Fudge's heart beat loudly and he stepped
nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell verdict: "Strike!"
Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed, and again faced the
pitcher. That ball had come well across the inner corner of the plate,
and Fudge determined that Mason shouldn't fool him a second time with
that particular kind of a delivery. So when the next ball shot forward
apparently coming the same way Fudge held his ground scornfully and
prepared to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten all
about swinging and was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped to
his ribs and an expression of pained surprise on his face. When he had
regained his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge thought that the joy
of his team-mates was very ill-considered. It seemed nothing to them
that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because a run had been
forced in!
Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently his hero
would have performed. There was something distinctly humiliating to
Fudge in gaining his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings of Gordon,
coaching behind the base, and was surprised to have Loring Townsend,
without any provocation, punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
Mason's in-shoot had collided with. That was too much for Fudge. The
pain brought tears to his eyes and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon
the first baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon's prompt
interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge away, patiently
explaining that Loring had tagged him with the ball while he had been
apparently fast asleep a yard off the base. The explanation, however,
was not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.
"What of it? He didn't have to punch me in the ribs as hard as he knew
how, did he?" demanded Fudge angrily. "What kind of a way is that to
play ball?"
"Shut up, Fudge!" said Gordon exasperatedly. "Why the dickens weren't
you watching the pitcher? What's the good of getting hit if you get put
out the next minute?"
"Good of it!" exclaimed Fudge. "Good of it! There isn't any good of it!
I just wish he'd lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good of it!"
And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly out to center field,
one hand pressed to his side.
The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had small difficulty with
the last three men on the Point batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom
Haley and Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will Scott to
pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth inning started and Dick
began to breathe easier, and the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant.
After all, three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got to
batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield could stop them
short of three tallies. Thus argued Dick, and said as much to Harold,
who, to-day, at least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled with that youth,
and expressed the wish once that Clearfield would wallop him out of the
box. But when Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
Harold took exception.
"You wait," he said darkly. "Here comes Loring up. He hasn't done
anything yet, and he's just bound to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will
send him home. You wait!"
Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size up the third
delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully at the next. With the
score two and two, Tom sped a straight one over and Loring met it with
his bat and set out for first. He didn't run very fast, though, for the
hit was a weak one and was bounding straight at Will Scott at third. But
Will made a mess of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon leaped into the
air, just managed to tip the ball with his fingers, and then dashed off
on a chase for it as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was swinging his bat eagerly
and impatiently, and Harold had dropped his score-book between his feet
and didn't know it!
That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom managed to strike out
Jensen after that player had knocked six fouls into various parts of the
field, and managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when Gil Chase
got the signal from first and trickled the ball into the pitcher's box
while Loring sped to third, Tom, with plenty of time to make the out at
first, tossed the ball six feet over Gordon's head and Loring slid home
with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to second.
Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken his nerve, and for a
while he went thoroughly to pieces. Eight batsmen faced him in that
inning, and four hits, for a total of six bases, and five runs were made
off him before he finally managed to strike out Mason. When that inning
was over the game had a different complexion. Instead of being three
runs ahead, with the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.
The home team returned determinedly to the fray, but Mason was
impregnable. In the last of the eighth not a man saw first and only four
players faced him. In the first of the ninth, Rutter's Point again
started things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up, singled into
left field, took second on Townsend's sacrifice, and was advanced to
third when Jensen hit past Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first
and House flied out to Shores.
I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the last half of that
final inning and pounded Mason for enough hits to win the game. But as
this isn't one of Fudge's romances I can't do anything of the sort. As a
matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the plate and watched
Mason's "floaters" waft past them and listened to the fateful voice of
the umpire calling strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory,
striking out three men in order and sending his team off the field
victors by the score of 5 to 3.
Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut, grinned at Dick as the
last man went out. "What did I tell you?" he asked gleefully. "Say, you
fellows can't play ball for shucks, Lovering!"
Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to smile in the face of
disaster, had Dick.
"We'll try you again some day," he answered. "Good-bye, Harold. See you
Monday."
"I may not be home," replied Harold airily.
But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates toward the dressing-room a
minute or two later, he felt a hand on his arm and looked around to find
that Harold had followed him.
"Say, Lovering, I--I'm sorry your team got beaten. And thanks for
showing me about scoring, you know."