THE CONSPIRATORS
There was plenty to talk about that night. The rooms of the Smith boys
were thronged with some old and many new admirers, for nothing succeeds
like success, and now that Pete was officially named as Varsity
shortstop, now that Bill had the preference, at least in the opening
game, as pitcher, and when Cap was named to catch for his talented
brother our heroes found themselves very much in the lime-light.
“To think of all three of us making the Varsity in our first year!”
exclaimed Bill, as he received the congratulations of several new
acquaintances.
“It’s great!” declared Cap. “I’m afraid our rivals will dub it the
‘Smith Nine,’ instead of Westfield.”
“Let ’em,” declared Captain Graydon, who was present. “I don’t care
what they call the nine if we keep the league pennant. But let me tell
you Smith boys, and all you other baseball fellows who are here, it’s
going to be no easy matter. Tuckerton has a battery that’s hard to
beat, and Haydon has a better team than ever before. We’ve got our work
cut out for us.”
“And we’ll make good!” exclaimed Whistle-Breeches, who was happy
because he had been promised at least part of the opening game, even
though he was in centre field.
But among the visitors to the rooms of our heroes Mersfeld and Bondy
were conspicuous by their absence. The failure of Mersfeld to call
was commented on, and it was openly said that he was jealous. And as
Westfield was an institution where the school spirit was especially
strong this was all the more marked.
“I’m sorry there’s a feeling between the two pitchers,” said Captain
Graydon to Mr. Windam as they walked to their dormitories together
after the informal little visit. “For both Smith and Mersfeld are fine
fellows. We may need them both before the season is over.”
“I expect we will. But we couldn’t pass over Mersfeld’s poor work
to-day. By putting Smith ahead of him it may spur him up a bit.”
“I hope it doesn’t spur him up to any mischief,” murmured the captain
dubiously.
“Mischief; how?”
“Well, he has a very ugly temper, and once he gets aroused—well, the
worst he can do is to withdraw from the team, I suppose.”
“I’d be sorry for that,” went on the coach. “But we really have a find
in Smith. He’s better than before his injury, or else those glasses
help him.”
“I guess it’s the glasses. No one’s vision is perfect the doctors say,
and perhaps we’d all be better for spectacles. I was just thinking what
would happen if they became broken in a critical game. Bill couldn’t
pitch.”
“That’s so. He ought to have a pair in reserve. I’ll speak to him about
it.”
Then the coach and captain fell to talking about other baseball
matters, including the coming game on Saturday, and the chances for
winning.
Bill and his brothers rejoiced among themselves, and with their
friends, and a letter telling about the honor that had come to the
Smith boys was sent to their father, all three joining in making it a
sort of composite epistle.
“Two days more and we’ll see what we can do on the diamond in a league
game,” said Cap, as he got ready to do some neglected studying. “Now
don’t mention ball again for an hour. I nearly slumped in Latin to-day,
and if any of us fall behind we’ll be hauled up and put out even if we
knock a home run. So buckle down, fellows.”
It was hard work to apply oneself to lessons after the events of the
day, but they did it—somehow.
Meanwhile, strolling along a dark and infrequented road that led back
of the school buildings, were two figures deep in conversation.
“It’s too risky a game to play,” objected Mersfeld, as he strode
moodily along.
“But you don’t want him to knock you out of your place, do you?”
demanded his companion, Bondy Guilder.
“No, of course not. But suppose I’m found out?”
“You won’t be. I can get the glasses easily enough, for his room is
right next to mine. I was going to change, for I don’t fancy the crowd
he and his brothers trail in with—they’re regular clod-hoppers. I’m
glad now I didn’t, for it will give us just the chance we want.”
“What have _you_ got against him?” asked the pitcher.
“Oh, he’s a regular muff, and he thinks he’s as good as I am,” was the
illogical answer. “I’d be glad to see him off the nine. It ought to be
composed of more representative school fellows, anyhow than a lot of
‘Smiths.’”
“I haven’t anything against the name, but I have against Bill,” said
Mersfeld. “He shoved himself in, and pushed me out—and I’d like to get
even.”
“You can, I tell you. If I get hold of his glasses he can’t pitch in
the game Saturday.”
“Can’t he get another pair?”
“Not the way I’ll work it.”
“Why not? Suppose you do manage to sneak in his room and get his
goggles. He’ll miss them sure as fate, and send for another pair.”
“No he won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t take them until Saturday morning, or just before the
game, and it will be too late to get another pair. Or, better still, I
can take out the special lenses that are in the frames, and substitute
others. Then he won’t suspect anything, he’ll go to the box, pitch so
rotten that Graydon will have to take him out, and you’ll go in. Bill
won’t know whether it’s the glasses, or whether his eyes have gone back
on him again. How’s that for a trick?”
“It’s all right I guess,” was the hesitating answer. “I rather hate
to be a party to it,” went on the pitcher, who was not a bad chap at
heart. “But—”
“But he had no right to come here and supplant you,” put in Bondy.
“No, that’s right. Well, can you get the glasses from his room?”
“Sure, and I’ll arrange to have other lenses to slip in them. I’ll
get the size, and they’re easy to change. I was close to him to-day,
and I saw how the rubber frames were made. I guess Bill won’t be such
a wonderful pitcher when I get through with him,” and Bondy chuckled
as he and his fellow conspirator turned around and walked back toward
school.