BASEBALL TALK
With so many other affairs to claim our attention, I have purposely
avoided going into the details of the baseball season at Brill that
year. As my old readers know, the college had a baseball nine and a
football eleven, and both had, at various times, done well at one
sport or the other.
This particular year, baseball matters had not gone as well as had
been expected. In the first place, several of the best players on the
nine had graduated the year before and left the college. Then had come
a long wet spell, during which time only some indoor practice in the
gymnasium could be attempted. Thus, at the opening of the season, the
nine possessed four players who had hitherto played only on the scrub,
and the whole team lacked the practice that was essential to success.
The most serious loss was in the battery, both the pitcher and catcher
of the year previous having left the college. Bob Grimes, who played
at shortstop, was the captain, and after a good many tryouts, he had
put Spud Jackson in as catcher. For pitcher, there were three
candidates: a lad named Bill Harney, who was a tall junior; a much
smaller chap who had come from Yale, named Dare Phelps; and Tom, who
had been pushed forward by a number of his friends. Tom had thought to
pay strict attention to his studies for the remainder of the term, but
finally agreed to accept the position if it was offered to him.
"I think you are going to make it, Tom," said Songbird one day after
Tom had been pitching on the regular team against Bill Harney, who had
been pitching on the scrub. Tom had managed to hold the scrub down to
three hits, while Harney had allowed fourteen hits, one of which had
been turned by the batter into a home run.
"Oh, I don't know about that," replied Tom. "Harney isn't so bad. He
had a little ill luck to-day, that's all. And then, don't forget
Phelps."
"I'm not forgetting either of them. Just the same, I think you are
going to make the nine."
The next day, Tom was put in as pitcher on the scrub, while Dare
Phelps occupied the box for the regular nine. For the first six
innings, it was a nip-and-tuck battle between the two pitchers. But
from that time on, Dare Phelps seemed to go to pieces, while Tom
struck out man after man. As a result, the score at the end of the
game stood 4 to 10 in favor of the scrub.
"Tom, I think that settles it!" cried his brother, as he rushed up and
took the other by the shoulder. "You certainly held them down in great
shape."
"And say, didn't the scrub bang Phelps all over the diamond!" broke in
another student. "My, he must feel pretty sore!" And evidently this
was true, because a minute later Dare Phelps left the diamond and
disappeared from view. Nearly everybody in the college had watched the
games between the scrub and the regular nine; and that night the
concensus of opinion seemed to be that Tom ought to pitch for the
regular team.
"You'll have to do it, Tom," said Bob Grimes, when he called on the
older Rover in the morning. "Phelps acknowledges that you are a better
pitcher than he is, and I think Bill Harney will have to do the same."
"Better wait and see how I pitch in one of the regular games,"
returned Tom, modestly. "For all you know, I may go to pieces."
"Nonsense, Tom! I know you too well for that," and Bob grinned
broadly. "We'll show Roxley College this year what we can do."
Every year there were two contests between Brill and Roxley, a rival
college located some miles away. One contest was at baseball, and the
other football. During the past Fall, Roxley had suffered its second
defeat on the gridiron at the hands of Brill. But the Spring previous,
its baseball nine had literally "wiped up the diamond" with Brill by a
score of 6 to 0. My, readers can, therefore, well imagine how anxious
the baseball management was to win the game scheduled to come off in
about a week.
Since returning to college from his trip to New York, and then the
longer trip to Alaska, Sam had given almost his entire time to his
studies. He was quite a baseball player, but he felt that to play on
the regular team would take too much of his time.
"If you are going to leave college this June, it won't make so much
difference whether you pass with flying colors or not, Tom," he said.
"But if I am to return in the Fall, I want to make sure that I am not
going to do so under conditions."
"But, Sam, I don't see why you can't play a game or two," persisted
Tom. "It doesn't seem natural for you to keep out of it altogether."
"Well, I have played some on the scrub."
"Oh, I know, but that isn't like going in for the regular thing. You
could be on the regular team if you really wanted to."
This matter was talked over several times, but Sam refused to be
entirely persuaded. He, however, finally agreed to go on the bench as
a substitute, provided Bob would not ask him to play any inside
position. By a toss-up, it had been decided that the game should take
place on the Roxley grounds. As a consequence, the boys of Brill and
their friends would have to go to the other college either by train
from Ashton, or in automobiles or some other kinds of conveyances.
"Of course, we'll take the girls, Tom," said Sam, in talking the
matter over. "We can go over to Hope in the auto for them, and I think
it would be nice if we took Songbird along and stopped at the
Sanderson cottage for Minnie."
"All right, that suits me," replied Tom, "Let us ask Songbird about
it."
Of course the would-be poet was delighted, and he at once sent a note
to Minnie, asking her to be ready when the auto arrived. The girls at
Hope were communicated with over the telephone.
"I'm afraid it's going to rain," said Spud, on the evening before the
great game was to take place. And Spud was right. By nine o'clock it
was raining steadily.
"Just our confounded luck!" muttered Songbird, as he paced up and down
the room which he and half a dozen others were occupying. "Now, I
suppose that game and our nice auto ride will be all knocked in the
head."
"Don't worry so early," returned Sam, cheerfully. "I don't think this
is anything more than a shower, and we need that to lay the dust." Sam
proved to be right, for before some of the boys retired, the rain had
stopped coming down, and one by one the stars began to appear. In the
morning, the sun came up as bright as ever, and by ten o'clock the
ground was as dry as any one could wish. The day was a Saturday, and,
of course, a holiday both at Brill and Roxley. By eleven o'clock, a
carryall had taken a large number of the students to Ashton, where
they were to take a special train for Roxley. All of the automobiles
at Brill were in use, and with them all of the turnouts that could be
hired in the vicinity.
"No time to spare!" sang out Tom, as he ran the automobile up to the
college steps.
"I am ready," said Sam, who had a dresssuit case with Tom's uniform
and his own in it.
"Where is Songbird?"
"I don't know, I thought he was with you."
"Here I am!" came the cry, and the would-be poet of the college came
rushing across the campus. He was dressed in his very best suit, and
wore a rose in his buttonhole.
"Wait! I almost forgot the horns!" cried Sam, and he darted back into
the building, to reappear a few seconds later with several long tin
horns. Into the automobile piled the boys, and then, with a loud
sounding of the horn, Tom turned on the power, and the machine started
off in the direction of Hope, soon reaching the spot where the
automobile had gone into the river.
"That poor chap didn't hurt his machine much, so I have heard,"
remarked Sam, as they bowled along over the bridge. "But, I think it
might have been better if he had come out of it scott free, and the
auto had gone to pieces."
"We ought to call on him, Sam," returned Tom. "I would like to find
out whether or not he is related to Jesse Pelter."
"Oh, don't bother about that to-day. Let your mind rest on the
game--and the girls," and Sam grinned faintly.
The run to the seminary did not take long. The Laning girls stood
waiting on the porch, and once they were in the car, the machine was
headed in the direction of the Sanderson cottage.
Nellie occupied the front seat with Tom, while Sam was in the tonneau
with Grace and Songbird. The younger girl was in her usual happy mood,
but Nellie's face showed worriment.
"Have you heard anything more about the missing ring?" questioned Tom,
while on the way to the Sanderson farmhouse.
"Not a thing, Tom," answered Nellie, soberly.
"Of course they have questioned the hired help?"
"Yes. And they have also questioned a number of the teachers and the
students."
"Has Miss Harrow said anything more about it to you?"
"No, but every time we meet, she gives me such a cold look that it
fairly makes me shiver. Oh, Tom, sometimes I don't know how I am going
to stand it!" And now the girl showed signs of breaking down.
"There, there! Don't think about it any more, Nellie--at least, for
to-day. Think of the jolly good time we are going to have and how we
are going to defeat Roxley."
"Do you think Brill will win, Tom? I heard some of the girls at Hope
say that they were sure Roxley would come out ahead. They said they
have an unusually strong nine this year, and that they have already
won some games from the strongest nines around here."
"Well, that is true. Nevertheless, we hope to come out ahead."
"Sure we'll come out ahead!" cried Songbird. "With Tom in the box it's
a cinch."
"Just what I say," broke in Sam. "Tom has got some curves that are
bound to fool them."
In order to make time, Tom had put on nearly all the speed of which
the car was capable, and in a short while they came in sight of the
Sanderson farm. Mr. Sanderson was at work in an apple orchard near by,
and waved his hand to them as the machine drew up to the horse-block.
"Better come along," sang out Sam, gaily.
"I wouldn't mind a-seein' the game," returned the old farmer. "But
I've promised to pick these early apples and ship 'em. I wish you boys
luck." And then he brought over a pail full of apples, and dumped them
in the tonneau of the car. Minnie, looking as fresh and sweet as ever,
was on the piazza, and when the car stopped she hurried down the
garden walk. Songbird leaped out and helped her in beside Grace,
shaking hands at the same time.
"Good gracious, Pa! how could you do so?" said Minnie, reproachfully,
as she stepped between the apples.
"Oh, I thought as how ye might git hungry on th' way," returned Mr.
Sanderson, with a broad grin. "If ye don't want to eat them, you feed
your hosses on 'em." And he laughed at his little' joke.
"We'll eat them fast enough don't worry," cried Sam, and then, with a
toot of the horn, the automobile proceeded on its way to Roxley.