THE FIRST GAME
Notwithstanding Fred's jubilant song, the day was not yet ended.
As the boys approached the school, they saw a figure in the road a
little way ahead that seemed familiar to them. They quickened their
pace, quickly overtaking Dago Joe.
"Hello, Joe," came from many voices at once.
Joe flashed them a smile, showing his fine, white teeth.
"Hello," he answered genially.
"Wonder if he's as fond of hash as ever," Fred remarked in a low voice
to Mouser.
"What are you doing up this way, Joe?" asked Bobby.
"Looking for any one?" inquired Sparrow.
But Joe was wary and refused to be drawn out.
"Can't get that old fox to give himself away," muttered Skeets.
Just then Tom Hicksley approached, accompanied by Bronson and Jinks.
They caught sight of Joe at the same time that he saw them, and tried to
retreat. Bronson and Jinks succeeded, but Joe was too quick for
Hicksley, and hurrying forward laid his hand on his arm, while he
jabbered away excitedly.
"Ha ha!" exclaimed Fred in a tragic way. "I see it all now."
"He's boning Hicksley for something," guessed Sparrow.
"Money, I'll bet," ventured Shiner.
"I shouldn't wonder if it's on account of that job he did for those
fellows, hauling those ashes," said Bobby.
"Wasn't it luck that we happened along just at this minute?" chuckled
Mouser delightedly.
As Joe and Hicksley were right in the path that led up to the school,
the boys sauntered along carelessly until they were nearly abreast of
them.
For a man who understood so little English, Joe was talking at a great
rate.
"I wanta ze mon," the boys heard him say.
"I tell you I haven't got it with me just now," Hicksley responded in an
undertone, trying to quiet the man and keep the boys from hearing.
"I wanta ze mon now," repeated Joe doggedly.
"Oh, give the man his money, Hicksley," broke in Sparrow suddenly.
"He needs it to buy hash with," said the irrepressible Fred.
"Let's take up a collection to help out," suggested Skeets
sarcastically.
"You fellows shut up," cried Hicksley, turning on them fiercely.
"We know how he earned it," returned Bobby undauntedly.
"You don't know anything of the kind," snarled the bully, but his eyes
wavered as they met Bobby's fixed upon them.
"It was pretty hard work carting ashes all that way to spoil our coast,"
went on Bobby. "You'd better pony up, Hicksley."
"I don't know what you're talking about," growled Hicksley.
But as he did not like the way the boys were gathering around him, he
put his hand in his pocket, drew out the dollar and a half that he had
promised to pay when the work should be finished and which he had ever
since been trying to cheat Joe out of, and slunk away, glad to escape
the contempt that he felt in the eyes and manner of the boys.
"Caught with the goods!" cried Fred jubilantly, throwing his cap into
the air.
"Couldn't have been nicer if we'd planned it ourselves," exulted
Sparrow.
"Well, now that we're sure that he did it, what are we going to do about
it?" asked Skeets.
"Oh, I guess there's nothing to be done," said Bobby slowly. "If it
wasn't that he's likely to be on the baseball team we might make it hot
for him. Not with the teachers of course, but among ourselves. But we
want Rockledge to win the championship, and it won't help any to have
trouble with any boy on the nine. Besides, he's had a good deal of
punishment just in the last few minutes. I never saw a fellow look as
cheap as he did when he faded away just now."
"I guess you're right, Bobby," assented Sparrow. "But all the same he
wouldn't let up on you if he had you in a fix."
The next day they all felt rather logy after their feast of the day
before, and Pee Wee, who had a severe stomach ache, did not get up at
all. Fortunately it was Sunday, and the day of rest helped to get them
in shape again before their school duties began on Monday morning.
From that time on the weather was all that the boys could ask, and every
hour the ball players could spare was spent in practice on the diamond.
Gradually, under the coaching of Mr. Carrier, their athletic instructor,
ably assisted by Frank Durrock, the nine was getting into good form.
Fred, at short stop, was thought to be a shade better than Willis, and
he was slated to play in the first game.
As to the pitchers, while there was no doubt that they would be Bobby
and Hicksley, it was by no means certain which of them would twirl in
the opening game, which was to be with the Somerset nine on the
Rockledge grounds.
Each was doing well, and each had some points that the other did not
possess. Hicksley, the older of the two, had more muscular strength, and
could whip the ball over with more speed than Bobby. But Bobby was a
better general, a quicker thinker, and he had a control of his curves
that was far better than his rival's.
"One thing is certain," said Mr. Carrier, in one of his conferences with
Frank. "We're better fixed in the box than we ever were before. It's
hard to choose between them, though, take all things together, I think
Blake is the better pitcher of the two."
"Yes," agreed Frank. "I feel a little safer myself with Bobby in there
than I do with Hicksley. Hicksley has lots of speed but he's liable to
go up with a bang. But I've never yet seen Bobby get rattled."
The long expected day arrived at last, and all Rockledge turned out to
see the game. The stand was full, and Dr. Raymond himself, with most of
the teachers, sat in a little space that had been railed off and
decorated with the Rockledge colors.
The Somerset nine, made up of strong, sturdy looking boys, had come over
with a large number of rooters from their town. They were full of
confidence, and they went through their preliminary practice with a snap
and a vim that showed they were good players.
Frank had watched them as they batted out flies, and noted that several
of them were left-handed batters. He held an anxious conference with Mr.
Carrier, and then came over to Bobby who was warming up.
"I had expected to have you pitch to-day, Bobby," he said; "but I've
just been noticing that those fellows have two or three left-handed
batters. Now you know as well as I do that for that kind it's best to
have left-handed pitching. They can't hit it so easily."
"Sure," replied Bobby.
"And so I think I'll have to put in Hicksley," continued Frank.
"That's all right," said Bobby heartily, "and I'll be rooting my head
off for him to win."
"You're a brick, Bobby!" exclaimed Frank. "I was sure you'd understand."
When the umpire cried: "Play ball!" there was a buzz of surprise among
the spectators, when, instead of Bobby, it was Tom Hicksley who picked
up the ball and faced the batter.