[Illustration: HE THRUST OUT HIS HAND FOR OSGOOD TO TAKE.]
THE NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE
By MORGAN SCOTT
Author of
“Ben Stone at Oakdale,” “Boys of Oakdale Academy,” “Rival Pitchers of
Oakdale,” “Oakdale Boys in Camp,” “The Great Oakdale Mystery,” etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers—New York
Printed in U. S. A.
Copyright, 1913
BY
HURST & COMPANY
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I—AN ORDER DISOBEYED.
CHAPTER II—THE SCORE TIED.
CHAPTER III—BENCHED.
CHAPTER IV—WYNDHAM’S LAST DESPERATE STAND.
CHAPTER V—THE DIPLOMACY OF OSGOOD.
CHAPTER VI—THE SUSPICIONS OF SLEUTH.
CHAPTER VII—YOUNG SPORTS.
CHAPTER VIII—A HOT GAME.
CHAPTER IX—THE BLOW AND AFTERWARDS.
CHAPTER X—THE LIE.
CHAPTER XI—PIPER SURPRISES HIS FRIENDS.
CHAPTER XII—DREAD.
CHAPTER XIII—THE PROFESSOR’S APPEAL.
CHAPTER XIV—PIPER PUTS IT UP TO SHULTZ.
CHAPTER XV—STILL SILENT.
CHAPTER XVI—THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.
CHAPTER XVII—THE GREAT FEAR.
CHAPTER XVIII—FLIGHT.
CHAPTER XIX—THE APPARITION IN THE WOODS.
CHAPTER XX—THE SEARCH.
CHAPTER XXI—THE CAMP ON THE ISLAND.
CHAPTER XXII—A SURPRISING CONFESSION.
CHAPTER XXIII—ANOTHER SURPRISE.
CHAPTER XXIV—SHULTZ SEES A LIGHT.
CHAPTER XXV—INTO THE OLD QUARRY.
CHAPTER XXVI—THE CONFESSION.
CHAPTER XXVII—LIKE A MIRACLE.
CHAPTER XXVIII—COMRADES ALL.
THE NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE
CHAPTER I
AN ORDER DISOBEYED.
Oakdale started the game by hammering Ollie Leach, the Wyndham pitcher,
for three runs in the first inning. Indeed, it seemed that they would
drive the schoolboy twirler from the slab in short order, and they might
have done so only for a snappy, clean-cut double play which put an
abrupt end to the fusillade of hits. When the Wyndham captain declined
to make a change and sent Leach back to the mound in the second inning,
the wondering Oakdalers told one another that they would finish the
foolhardy southpaw then and there.
Leach, however, had steadied down a great deal, and the best the
visitors could do was to squeeze in one more run, which they practically
secured through a rank error by Pelty, the shortstop. At this point the
successful batting of the visitors seemed to come to an abrupt end, for
during the succeeding four innings Ben Stone was the only man who could
hit the left-hander safely.
Meanwhile, Rodney Grant was doing some steady, clever pitching for
Oakdale, which, with perfect support, would have prevented the locals
from gathering a single tally. Ned Osgood committed the first costly
blunder. Covering third for Oakdale, he attempted to make a fancy play
on a grounder, and let it get through him, enabling a Wyndham runner to
score from second after two were out.
In the fifth, with two Wyndhamites gone, Charley Shultz, in the middle
garden, tried to pull down a fly with one hand when he could have easily
reached it with both hands, and his muff gave the locals another
valuable mark in the scorer’s book.
Jack Nelson, the Oakdale captain, reprimanded Shultz when, following a
strike-out, the team trotted to the bench.
“You should have had that fly, Charley,” said Nelson sharply; “and you
would have got it if you’d went after it with both hands instead of one.
That’s the first time I’ve seen you drop a ball you could reach as
easily as that one. Quit your grandstanding and play baseball.”
Shultz shot Nelson a sullen look. “Oh, what’s the use to holler?” he
retorted. “I knew best whether I could reach it with both hands or one.
I think I know how to play that field.”
Nelson’s teeth came together with a click, and for a moment, his cheeks
burning hotly, it seemed that his annoyance and anger would master him,
but he succeeded in holding himself in check.
“You can play the field all right, Shultz,” he said, “and it’s just
because you can that I disapprove of that attempted fancy flourish.
We’ve got to hold these chaps down somehow.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” laughed Osgood optimistically. “We’ve got them beaten
now. We won the game in the first inning.”
“Mebbe we did, but we didn’t paound Lefty Leach off the slab,” reminded
Sile Crane. “Gall hang that feller! I hit him once, but I’ll be switched
if I can seem to do it ag’in. He’s sorter got me locoed!”
“He seems to have rattled everybody belonging to this whole bunch,” said
Chipper Cooper. “We ain’t any of us doing ourselves proud—’cepting old
Stoney.”
Nor did they improve in the first of the sixth. Leach was working a
sharp drop that had them all breaking their backs to the distasteful
music of the Wyndham cheers. Grant was effective in the latter half, and
the seventh opened with him at bat.
“Start us off, Rod,” implored Nelson, as the Texan secured his bat and
left the bench. “Let’s sew this thing up with some more runs.”
The fellow from the Lone Star State made no reply, but he squared
himself grimly in the batters’ box and took the measure of one of
Lefty’s drops. The hit was, appropriately, a Texas leaguer, and the
visiting spectators howled joyously as Rod capered to first.
Chipper Cooper, coaching on the line back of first, flapped his arms
wildly and crowed like a rooster. As the cheering of the little knot of
Oakdale Academy students died down somewhat, Chipper was heard whooping
joyously:
“Here we go! The lucky seventh! Don’t try to steal second, Rod; that
would be a base thing to do. We’re after old Lefty again, and now we’ll
finish the job we started in the first round.”
On the opposite side of the diamond Phil Springer, likewise enthused and
excited, was wildly stuttering at the same time:
“Gug-gug-great work, Gug-Gug-Grant. Some cuc-cuc-class to that little
bub-bingle. Take a gug-gug-good lead. Shultzie saw how you dud-dud-did
it. He’ll drive you round.”
There was in this contest between rival high school nines little of that
calculation and method employed by professionals and generally termed
“inside baseball.” Nevertheless, Jack Nelson knew the importance of team
work and had done his best to drill his players in some of the
rudiments. The deadly accuracy of the Wyndham catcher’s throwing to
bases was well known to the Oakdale lads, and, with no one down, an
attempt to steal seemed inadvisable to Nelson. Shultz, the next batter,
had been hitting the ball hard, even though he had found it impossible
to place his hits safely, and instantly Nelson spoke a word to him and
signalled to the watchful Texan at first that it was to be a
hit-and-run.
On previous occasions, with the situation similar, the visitors had
seemed to prefer sacrificing; and so, as Shultz confidently took his
position at the plate, the infield drew closer, every fellow on his toes
to go after a bunt or a short grounder.
Leach made sure his support was prepared for action, and then, wetting
his fingers, he handed up a high whistler that had a bit of a jump on
it.
Even though the ball was on a level with his cap visor, Shultz managed
to hit it, boosting a high fly toward the smiling sky.
Grant was half way down to second when he heard a shrill, warning cry
from both coachers.
“Look out! Get back! Skyscraper!” shrieked Cooper.
“Hey! Bub-bub-bub-bub——” Springer continued to “bub” even after the
galloping Texan had plowed his spikes into the ground, brought himself
to a halt and turned to race desperately back to the initial sack.
Little Pelty got under that high one and reached for it eagerly in his
great desire to make the catch and turn it into a double play by a throw
that should reach first ahead of the returning runner. For the moment,
with the exception of the still shrieking coachers, every spectator
seemed breathless and silent. Pelty got the ball, froze to it and made a
beautiful throw, but Grant’s amazing promptness in stopping and getting
back at high speed saved him by a yard or more, and he was declared safe
at first.
“Pretty close, pretty close,” cried Baxter, the Wyndham captain.
“Missed by a mile,” contradicted Cooper, intensely relieved. “You can’t
rope this wild Texas steer; he’s never been branded.”
“Cuc-cuc-come on, Osgood,” implored Springer, as the next hitter was
seen to rise from the bench; “you’re the boy to do the trick.”
Already Nelson had given Ned Osgood his instructions.
“Bunt, Osgood,” were his swift words. “They may look for us to follow up
with a hit-and-run. Sacrifice Grant along on the second ball pitched.
Stone is the next batter.”
That he was right in his judgment concerning the locals was proven by
the fact that the infielders resumed their regular positions, while the
outfielders fell back a little. Persistent plugging at the hit-and-run
game is frequently resorted to by teams having poor success through
other methods, and the action of Baxter in signaling his players to fall
back showed that he believed an attempt would be made to repeat the play
that had been foiled through Shultz’s high infield fly.
Leaning forward in a natural position, with his elbows on his knees and
the fingers of his hands interlocked, Nelson thus telegraphed to Grant
that the hitter would let the first ball pass and try to sacrifice on
the next.
Jack’s foresight seemed excellent, for, fancying the visitors would be
eager to continue the hit-and-run attempt, Leach “wasted one” on Osgood,
who did not even remove his bat from his shoulder.
“Let him do it again,” piped Cooper. “Let him put himself in a hole,
Osgood, then pick out a good one when he has to put it across.”
Osgood, although he liked the game, was both obstinate and conceited,
having a great deal of confidence in himself as a batter and believing
that he knew as much about baseball as any fellow on the team.
Therefore, perceiving that the next ball was coming over slightly more
than waist high and apparently just where he wanted it, he declined to
bunt and swung with all his force, hoping to make a long, sensational
drive which would go safe and cover him with glory. Instead of doing
this, he smashed a hot grounder straight into the hands of Foxhall, the
second baseman.
Grant, fully expecting a sacrifice, was again racing down the line from
first, and now he had no time to turn back. Without delay, yet with a
deliberation that made for sureness, Foxhall turned and threw to first,
completing an easy double play that was brought about directly through
the batter’s perverseness in declining to follow the instructions of his
captain.