ANDY SHANKS "GETS HIS"
The Mount Vernon partisans were in an ecstasy of delight at the lead
their favorites were holding and from present indications seemed likely
to hold to the end. They yelled their loudest at every good play made by
the home team, and did all they could to keep them up to fighting pitch.
The Rally Hall followers, although of course outnumbered, kept up their
end and shouted until they were hoarse. Among these none were more
vociferous than Lester Lee and Bill Garwood. They had not "made" the
team, although they liked and understood the game. But they were
"dyed-in-the-wool" rooters for their team, and especially for the
Rushton boys upon whose shoulders rested so much of responsibility for
the fate of the game.
As luck would have it, they were surrounded on every side by the Mount
Vernon boys, many of whom were accompanied by pretty girls who had come
to see the downfall of the invaders. Some of them knew very little of
the game, but that did not dampen their enthusiasm, and they clapped
their hands and waved their flags whenever that seemed the right thing
to do.
One of them was seated right alongside of Lester, and he and Bill could
not help hearing her conversation.
Her escort, in an interval between innings, was trying to tell her of a
game he had recently seen.
"This fellow was a fast runner," he remarked, "and he stole second base
while the pitcher wasn't looking."
"Stole it!" she exclaimed. "Why, I thought the bases were fastened
down."
"They are," the young man laughed, "but he stole it just the same."
"I think that's just disgraceful," she said indignantly. "Did they
arrest him?"
Her escort explained what he meant, and she looked relieved.
"A minute later, he tried it again," he went on, "but this time the ball
was too quick for him, and the runner died at third."
"Oh, how dreadful! I suppose he had been running so hard that his heart
gave out."
Bill nudged Lester, whose face was purple with his efforts to restrain
himself.
Again her escort patiently explained that the incident at third had been
in no sense a tragedy.
"That made two out," he went on, "but the next man at the bat lammed the
horsehide--No," he interrupted himself hurriedly, as he saw another
question trembling on her lips, "the horse wasn't in the hide. I mean,
he hit the ball and made a home run. That rattled the pitcher and he
went up in the air."
"Let's get out," whispered Bill to Lester. "I can see that she'll ask
him whether it was a baseball game or an aviation meet."
"It's his own fault," replied Lester, as he followed his companion to
another part of the stand where they could give free vent to their
mirth. "You can't blame her for not understanding baseball slang. I'll
bet after this that he'll stick to plain English."
"Look at those clouds coming up!" exclaimed Bill suddenly. "I'm afraid
rain's coming before the game is over."
"And our fellows behind," groaned Lester.
"We ought to have 'got the hay in' before this," said Bill, as Tom's
doggerel of the morning came back to him.
The Mount Vernon team was quick to see its advantage and began to play
for time.
They were ahead, and as more than five innings had been played, it would
be called a complete game and credited to them, if they could keep their
opponents from scoring before the rain came down.
With this end in view, they began a series of movements designed to
delay the game. The Rally Hall boys were at the bat and it was the
beginning of the seventh inning. They were desperate in their desire to
tie or go ahead of the enemy. Those two runs loomed bigger and bigger,
as the game drew near its end.
"We've got to get a move on, fellows," admonished Fred, as his side came
to bat.
"And in an awful hurry, too," agreed Melvin.
"The time's short even if the rain doesn't come," declared Ned. "But
from the look of those clouds, we won't play a full game. Make this the
'lucky seventh' and crack out a couple of runs."
"How are we going to get anything, if that pitcher doesn't put it over?"
asked Tom, as he stood at the plate, bat in hand. "Hi, there," he called
to the boxman. "Put the ball over the plate and I'll kill it."
"Take your time," drawled the pitcher, as he bent over, pretending to
tie his shoe lace. "I'll strike you out soon enough."
That shoe lace seemed very hard to tie, judging from the time he spent
in doing it. At last, when he could not keep up the pretence any longer,
he straightened up and took his position in the box. Then, something
about the ball seemed to attract his attention. He looked at it
earnestly and signaled to the captain who walked in slowly from centre
field. He in turn beckoned to the first baseman, and the three joined in
conversation at the pitcher's box.
By this time, the crowd had caught the idea, and a storm of protest
broke out from the stands.
"Play ball!"
"Cut out the baby act!"
"Can't you win without the rain?"
"What a crowd of quitters!"
"Be sports and play the game!"
"They're showing a yellow streak!"
"The white feather, you mean!"
Most of the protests came from the Rally Hall followers, but a good many
also of the home team's supporters were disgusted at these
unsportsmanlike tactics.
Teddy rushed up to the umpire, his eyes blazing.
"Are you going to stand for this?" he asked. "What kind of a deal are we
getting in this town, anyway?"
The umpire, who had tried to be strictly impartial, raised his hand
soothingly.
"Go easy, son," he replied. "I was only waiting to make sure. I'll see
that you get fair play.
"Cut out that waiting stuff," he called to the pitcher, "and play ball."
The pitcher took his position in the box, but the captain strolled
toward centre field at a snail's pace.
"Hurry up there now," ordered the umpire. "I'll give you till I count
ten to get out in the field. If you're not there by that time, I'll put
you out of the game."
"I'm going, am I not?" retorted the captain, still creeping along.
"One," said the umpire. "Two. Three."
The captain's pace quickened.
"Four. Five. Six."
The captain broke into a trot.
"Seven. Eight. Nine."
But by this time the captain had reached his position. It was evident
that the umpire meant what he said.
"Now, put them over," he ordered the pitcher, "and I'll send you to the
bench, if I see any signs of holding back. Play ball."
There was no further delay, and the pitcher shot the ball over the
plate. Tom, true to his promise, "killed" the ball, sending a scorching
liner between second and third that netted him two bases. Fred
sacrificed him to third by laying a beautiful bunt down on the first
base line. Morley hit the ball a resounding crack, but it went straight
to the second baseman, who made a great stop and nipped Tom as he came
rushing in to the plate. A long fly to centre field ended the inning,
and gloom settled down on the boys from Rally Hall.
"Seven goose eggs in a row," groaned Billy Burton.
"Never mind," said Fred cheerily, as he picked up his glove. "We're
getting on to his curves now. Did you see how we belted him in that
inning? No pop-up flies, but good solid welts. The breaks in the luck
were against us but they won't be always."
As though to back up his words of cheer, the sun at that instant broke
through the clouds and the field was flooded with light.
"Hurrah!" yelled Teddy, throwing up his hat. "It isn't going to rain
after all."
"Those were only wind clouds," exulted Melvin.
"It is the sun of Austerlitz," quoted Tom.
"It's a good omen anyway," declared Ned. "Buckle down to your work now,
boys, and play like tigers."
And they did. Fred promptly struck the first man out on three pitched
balls. The second popped up a high foul, which Tom gathered in after a
long run. The third man up dribbled a slow one to the box and Fred
quickly snapped the ball over to first for an out.
"Short and sweet, that inning," commented Slim Haley.
"Now it's our turn again," said Teddy. "Here's where we win."
"Up guards and at them," encouraged Tom.
But, try as they would, their bad luck persisted. Their slugging was
hard and fierce, but the ball went straight into a fielder's hands, and
again they went out on the diamond without a score to their credit.
In the enemy's eighth turn at bat, it looked as if they might get one or
more runs over the plate. A lucky bound allowed one man to get to first,
and he went to second when Morley dropped a high fly after a long run.
There were men on first and second with none out, and their chance for a
score was bright.
The next man up sent a whistling liner right over second. Teddy, who was
playing close to the bag, jumped in the air and pulled down the ball.
That, of course, put out the batter. As Teddy came down with the ball in
his hand, he stepped on the base, thus putting out the man who had made
a bee line for third, thinking the ball would go safe, and was now
trying desperately to get back. That made two out. The fellow who had
been on first had almost reached second, but turned and sprinted back
with Teddy in hot pursuit. He clapped the ball on him just in time, and
the side was out. Teddy had made a triple play unassisted.
It was a sparkling and most unusual feat, and the whole stand rose to
Teddy as he came in, and cheered and cheered until he was forced to pull
off his cap. The Mount Vernon rooters forgot their partisanship and
shouted as loudly as the rest. As for his schoolmates, they mauled and
hugged him until he fled for refuge to the bench.
"Some fireworks!" yelled one.
"I can die happy, now!" exclaimed another. "I've seen a triple play
pulled off."
"You'll never see another," prophesied his neighbor.
The Rally Hall boys were yelling their loudest to encourage their
favorites when they came to bat for the last time.
A groan went up when Duncan lifted a high fly to centre field, which was
caught easily. But Melvin sent a sizzling liner to left, just inside
third, and made two bases on it. And the yells were deafening, when Ward
advanced him to third, by a fierce grounder to short, that was too hot
to hold.
"Rushton! Rushton!" they shouted, as Fred came to bat after Tom had gone
out on a foul. "Hit it on the trademark!" "Give it a ride!" "Win your
own game!"
The first ball was a deceptive drop, but Fred did not "bite." The second
was a low fast one, about knee high, just the kind he was accustomed to
"kill."
With a mighty swing he caught it fair "on the seam." It rose like a shot
and soared into centre field, far over the fielder's head.
Melvin and Ward came in, tying the score, and Fred, who had gone around
the bases like a deer, made it a home run by just beating the ball on a
headlong slide to the plate.
Rally Hall promptly went raving mad.
There was still one more chance for the Mount Vernon lads, and their
best hitters were coming on. But Fred was on his mettle now, and put
every ounce of his strength and cunning into his pitching. They simply
could not hit his slants. The first went out on strikes, Ward made a
dazzling catch of a hot liner, and, when Melvin, after a long run,
caught a high foul close to the left field bleachers, the game was over,
with the score three to two in favor of Rally Hall.
It was a hilarious crowd that met the team at Green Haven when the train
pulled in. The whole nine had played well, and all came in for their
share of the ovation, though the Rushton brothers were regarded as
having carried off the honors of the game.
"Do you know what pleased me most of all?" asked Fred of Melvin.
"That home run you made, I suppose," answered the other.
"No," was the answer. "It was that we downed the 'ringer.' They couldn't
get away with their low-down trick. We put one over on 'voconometry and
trigoculture.'"
But Fred had a chance to "put one over" a few days later that pleased
him still more.
A group of the boys had been down to the post office and were walking
slowly on the road back to Rally Hall. It was a beautiful afternoon, and
they took their time, in no hurry to get home.
Suddenly there was a loud "honk," "honk" behind them, and, looking back,
they saw an automobile coming swiftly toward them.
They scattered to let it pass, but, as it came up it slackened speed and
began zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, making the boys
jump to keep out of the way.
"Can't you look out where you're going?" asked Slim angrily. "What kind
of a driver are you, anyway?"
"By Jove, fellows!" exclaimed Bill Garwood, as he looked more closely at
the face behind the goggles, "it's Andy Shanks!"
It was indeed that disgraced youth, who was making a trip through that
part of the state, and whom some impulse had prompted to go by way of
Green Haven.
"Sure it is," he answered sourly. "Get out of the way, you boobs. Jump,
you skate," he said to Fred, as he darted the machine at him.
Fred leaped nimbly out of the way, and Andy, with a derisive jeer, sped
on, looking behind him and laughing insolently.
Fred was white with indignation.
"The coward!" he exclaimed. "If I could get on that running board, I'd
drag him from his seat!"
"He sure ought to have a licking," agreed Bill. "But we'd have to be
some good little sprinters to catch him now."
"Look, fellows!" cried Billy Burton excitedly, "he's stopped. There must
be something the matter with his engine."
They all started to run.
Andy had dismounted quickly and was working desperately to get his
stalled engine going.
He got it sparking at last, but before he could jump into the seat the
boys were on him.
"No, you don't!" cried Fred, getting between him and the machine. "I've
got an account to settle with you."
"Get out of my way," snarled Andy, trying to push past.
Fred's answer was a blow that caught the bully under the chin and sent
his teeth together with a snap.
"I'll fix you for that," Andy roared.
"Come along," was Fred's challenge, slipping off his coat, "but first
take off your goggles. I'm going to lick you good and plenty, but I
don't want to blind you."
Then followed a fight that Slim afterward described to a delighted group
at the dormitory as a "peach of a scrap."
Even a rat will fight if it is cornered, and Andy, having no way out,
did his best. All the hate and venom he felt for Fred came to the
surface, and he fought ferociously.
But he was no match, despite his size and strength, for the boy he had
wronged. Fred was in splendid shape, thanks to his athletic training,
and, besides, he was as quick as a cat. He easily evaded the bull-like
rushes of Andy, and got in one clean-cut blow after another that shook
the bully from head to foot. The thought of all he had suffered through
Shank's trickery gave an additional sting to the blows he showered on
him, and it was not long before Andy lay on the ground, sullen and
vanquished.
"Have you had enough?" asked Fred.
"Enough," mumbled Andy, through his bruised lips.
They left him there, humbled but furious, and went on their way to the
Hall.
"Fred, you went round him like a cooper round a barrel!" said Bill
Garwood admiringly.
"He had it coming to him," answered Fred. "If ever a fellow needed it,
he did."
He stepped aside to avoid a car coming toward him in which two
rough-looking men were seated.
"Look, Fred!" cried Teddy, clutching his brother's arm as the car went
by.
"What? Where?" asked Fred wonderingly.
"The auto!" gasped Teddy. "The man with a scar! The fellows that stole
Uncle Aaron's watch!"