A GARRISON FINISH
It was not until the beginning of the second inning that anything
happened, although in the first Chase got a runner to first on a
single. But Ted threw him out at second when he tried to steal, and the
next two went out easily. Maple Ridge retired in order. In the second
inning Brothers, Chase’s second baseman, singled to right, went to
second on a neat sacrifice and got third when Sam made his only error
of the game, a poor throw to second in the hope of catching the runner
off base. The next batter went out on an infield fly, and with two down
Maple Ridge breathed easier. Out in right field Jack pulled his cap
further over his face to keep the broiling sun out of his eyes, shifted
a few steps to the left as the next batsman faced the pitcher, and
waited. Two balls went by and then there was a hard, solid _crack_ and
the ball was arching out toward him, high against the glaring sky. He
ran back a few yards, turned, faced and waited. Down came the ball and
up went Jack’s hands.
Then there was a groan from the Maple Ridge partisans and a yell of joy
from the enemy, and Jack was picking the ball from the turf and heaving
it despairingly to second, while the man from third was trotting across
the plate with the first tally. Jack had forgotten his injured hand,
and when the ball had struck the involuntary flinch that followed had
let it trickle out of his grasp. How he hated himself! He had had his
chance to make good and lost it! How they must be reviling him up there
on the stand. Gus Turnbull, though, was calling to him hearteningly:
“Never mind that, Kansas! Cheer up!”
But there was no cheering up for Jack just then. It had been the worst
muff he had ever made. Even in the first days of learning he had never
done anything quite so atrocious. He glowered at his raw palm and
deliberately struck it with his clenched mitt. The pain was bad for a
moment, and almost brought the tears to his eyes, but he told himself
he deserved far more than that. Of course they would pull him out now
and put Watkins back. Well, it was his own fault. To drop an easy fly
like that!
Meanwhile the next batsman was up and the man on second was dancing up
and down and back and forth, daring Sam to throw to the base. But Sam
refused to pay any attention to him. Instead he set to work to strike
out Clifford, the Chase pitcher, and soon succeeded.
Jack trotted back to the bench feeling like a murderer, but strangely
enough he met only amused smiles or sympathetic grins as he squeezed
into retirement between Sam and Tyler Wicks, and if Shay meant to take
him out he said nothing about it then nor later. But Will Watkins,
seated further along amongst the substitutes, looked hopeful.
That one run lead Chase maintained for inning after inning. Maple
Ridge got men on bases several times, and only Ted got to third, but
always the hit needed to bring in a run was lacking. Clifford was
pitching good ball, for, although Maple Ridge got as many hits as
her adversary, they were scattered, and the Chase fielders refused to
make errors. In the fourth inning Chase again looked dangerous when
Gibson singled to right, took second on a sacrifice hit and third on an
infield out. But he died there, for Sam fanned the next batsman. Again,
in the eighth, Chase threatened to add to that single tally of hers.
Sam passed the first man up, the second was safe when Smythe fumbled a
fast grounder, and both moved up on a sacrifice. But again Sam settled
down and pitched perfect ball and Gibson and Brothers struck out.
And all this time Maple Ridge was doing her best to slip in a run to
tie the score, and always fate was against her. Clifford grew stronger
as the game progressed and in the seventh and eighth innings not a
Maple Ridge player saw first. The gloom thickened fast. In the first of
the ninth Chase was all for starting a batting rally and the coaches
made more noise than two steam calliopes, but Sam was still going
strong. The first man was an easy out, Smythe to Ted, the second flied
out to Truesdale and the third never left the plate, falling victim to
Sam’s elusive slants.
“Come on, fellows!” cried Dolph as they trotted to the bench. “Last
chance, you know. Here’s where we pull in a couple.” But in spite of
his hopeful words Dolph looked pretty tired and nervous and dispirited.
The Maple Ridge supporters were on their feet, cheering loudly as Ted,
the head of the list, stepped to bat. Down at first Truesdale danced
around in the coacher’s box and shouted encouragement, and back of
third Joe Williams, who had a voice like a fog-horn, was waving and
yelling.
Ted struck twice and missed, waited and got the benefit of three balls
and then let go at a high, straight one. The ball trickled erratically
half-way to the pitcher’s box. Pitcher and catcher ran for it, jostled
confusedly and allowed Ted to reach first in safety. Then the cheering
began in earnest! Midget Green was seen standing on his head in front
of the stand, and they say it took him almost all of Sunday afternoon
to recover the treasures that dropped from his pockets. Smythe, whose
batting had been poor all the afternoon, was taken out and Dick Furst
went in to bat for him. Furst managed to connect with the second offer
and sent Ted to second, going out himself at first. When Dolph stepped
up to the plate surely even Rome never heard such howling! Now was the
time for Dolph to make good with one of his three-baggers. But alas
for reputation! Dolph, nervous and over-anxious, struck at some of the
worst balls Clifford had in his repertoire and finally fanned himself
out.
Two gone and the score still one to nothing against them! It was all
over! Maple Ridge stuffed its score-cards in its pockets, settled its
hats and prepared for the exodus. But perhaps Truesdale didn’t share
the general pessimism as he selected his bat and strode to the rubber,
for he faced Clifford confidently and smilingly.
“Last man!” shouted Brothers, the Chase second baseman. “Two gone, Bob;
let him hit it!”
Had Brothers, who had fielded his position in masterly style all the
afternoon without an error, known what was about to happen, he wouldn’t
have spoken so cheerfully. For Truesdale, after having a strike and
two balls called on him, picked out something he liked and slammed it
hard toward second baseman. In streaked Ted and down the line flew
Truesdale. Brothers took the grounder on the bound, dropped it, kicked
it and finally, when he had it safe in hand again, Truesdale was on
first, the score was tied and the Maple Ridgers were howling and
shouting like lunatics, dancing over the grass and thumping each other
anywhere and everywhere. The light green flags waved frantically, and
the spectators threatened to put an end to the game then and there by
overflowing the diamond and carrying off the Maple Ridge players.
Meanwhile consternation had seized the visiting team, consternation
and fright. Brothers, after slamming his glove to the ground and
begging shortstop to kick him――something shortstop looked very willing
to do――joined the pitcher and third baseman in a consultation at
the mound. What they said or planned I can’t say. Certainly, though,
Clifford was no longer the same fellow who had held Maple Ridge
scoreless and helpless for eight innings. He was palpably nervous as
the others went back to their positions.
“Pick out a good one, Borden,” said Mr. Shay calmly as Jack selected
his bat. “It only takes one, you know.”
And Jack, his hand paining him badly, gripped that bat and made up his
mind to retrieve himself.
Clifford sent a high ball and the crowd yelled its delight. He followed
that with a wild one that the catcher just managed to get. “Two balls,”
said the umpire. Maple Ridge danced with glee. Then Clifford and the
catcher talked it over half-way between mound and plate, and the
catcher patted him on the shoulder and the pitcher worked a very pretty
drop on Jack at the next delivery.
In the meantime Truesdale, at first, was anxious to get down to second,
and on the next pitch he started. Luckily for him the ball was a low
drop and by the time the catcher had straightened out for the throw he
was sliding for the bag. More cheers from the home team’s friends. The
score was one strike and three balls. Jack made up his mind to give
Clifford an opportunity of passing him, but Clifford didn’t intend
to do anything of the sort. The next delivery, at which Jack made no
motion, was another strike, and it was now or never. Jack took a fresh
grip at the bat and glued his eyes to the ball.
Clifford, fighting against nervousness, was very deliberate, eyeing
batsman and base-runner alternately. At last he wound up, straightened
out and the ball sped toward the plate. It looked straight and good,
and, since it was the crucial delivery, Jack believed it would prove
such when it reached him. And it did. And Jack met it squarely with a
good, sharp _crack_ and raced for first!
[Illustration: “Jack met it squarely with a good, sharp _crack_!”]
Three feet from the ground sped the ball, two feet inside the third
base line, four feet from the fielder’s frantic effort to reach it, a
fine straight base hit that rolled clear to the outfield. Truesdale,
taking no chances, slid the last ten feet of his journey to the plate,
was caught up by frenzied admirers and borne off the field. For the
game was over, with the final score 2 to 1! Maple Ridge, in a garrison
finish, had won out in the ninth!