NOTES OF PREPARATION.
On the ridge above the town of Catalpa stands a huge building known
as "The Fair Building." When the Northern District Agricultural Fair
was held in Catalpa, this structure was used for displays of mammoth
squashes, women's handiwork, exhibits of flax, wheat, flour, and the
other products of the fertile region of Northern Illinois. Now it was
given over to desolation and neglect. The men who had helped to pay for
its erection were not willing to signify by tearing it down that they
had given up all hope of ever winning back to Catalpa the institution
that had moved away up to the northern part of the state. Some of these
days, they said, the Fair would come back to Catalpa, and then the
building would be ready for the show, as of old.
The promoters of the new base ball club scheme had no difficulty in
securing permission for the players to practice in the building.
Accordingly, when the leisure days of winter came on, the lads betook
themselves to the lonesome and barnlike structure and warmed themselves
with the exercise that pitching, catching and running made needful.
"If we had had this old ark built for us," said Hiram Porter, whose
father was one of the Directors of the Agricultural Society, "it
couldn't have been better planned. Suppose we call a ball sent up there
where Marm Deyo used to spread out her wonderful bed-quilts a foul
ball? And then we might imagine that the lower gallery is full of girls
looking on at Larry's scientific pitching. Gals--gallery; see?" and the
boys all laughed at Hiram's small joke, for their spirits rose as they
warmed to their work.
Thither went, also, occasionally, a favored few of the townspeople who
were very much waked up now over the work of the Nine that was to be
the champion of the region, if not of the State. To such an extent had
the men, women and children of Catalpa been aroused by what was going
on, that a stranger coming into town and hearing the gossip around the
street corners and in the more comfortable stores and shops, would have
supposed that Catalpa was devoting itself exclusively to the practice
of base ball. It was the dead of winter, and, except a few teams slowly
pulling in from the outlying country, with a few farmers in quest
of the necessaries of life from the town stores, very little life
was visible about the place. Occasionally, a fierce snow storm would
sweep over the town, blocking the streets, and cutting it off from all
communication except by railroad. The main street would be desolate,
and the bridge show only a solitary passenger whom dire necessity
brought out in such a cold and wintry gale as the "blizzard" proved to
be.
At such times, however, up in the big Fair Building whose yawning
cracks let in the driving snow, and on whose roof the shingles rattled
merrily, a party of hardy and stalwart young fellows was sure to be
found practicing arduously for the work of the coming summer. Around
the hot stoves in the lounging-places, down town, grown men were
talking of base ball, and small boys, hanging eagerly on the outer
edges of the groups, drank in with silent intelligence the words of
wisdom that dropped from the lips of their elders. For a time, at
least, it looked as if nothing would ever be done in that town but to
prepare for the base ball season of the next year.
But the winter wore away and the regular industries of the Stone River
Valley began to revive. The ice went out of the river with the usual
rush, and people wondered, as they always had, if the bridge would
stand the pressure of the ice-flood. The roads were once more channels
of bottomless mud, and eastern people, whom business errands brought
out into that part of the country, sourly berated a country "in which
everything depended on the state of the roads." The blue jays were
calling from the tree-tops and the meadow larks were whistling along
the fences. The prairies were gradually growing green, and the low
places and hollows where the snow lately lingered became shining pools
reflecting the tender blue of the spring sky.
One day, Bill Van Orman, after carefully going over the Agricultural
Fair Grounds in company with Al Heaton, reported that it was about
time to begin practicing out of doors. For months, the members of the
new nine had been wishing for the day to come when they could get out
into the open air and put some of their indoor practice into actual
work. So, with the assistance of a few of their associates who were not
members of the new club, they organized two nines and went to work in
earnest.
The long winter had borne its fruit. The talk and gossip of the town
had run almost altogether to base ball. There was nobody in Catalpa,
unless it was poor old Father Bickerby, who was stone deaf, who had
not heard the smallest particulars of the progress of the new nine
discussed. Did Larry Boyne make a particularly fine running, one-hand
catch in the practice of a winter's afternoon? It was minutely
described that night over a hundred tea-tables in Catalpa. Did Charlie
King bewilder everybody, some day, by the dexterity and rapidity of the
balls that he delivered, so that even the players, always reluctant to
praise each other, applauded him? Sage old men hanging over the open
fire in the drug store would say that Charlie King "would warm those
Jonesvillers, next summer."
And, what was of more immediate importance, the financial arrangements
necessary to start the club prosperously on its way were perfected
while the dull times of a western winter pervaded the town of Catalpa.
Judge Howell, himself, with an air of great condescension, headed a
list of gentlemen who agreed to give a certain sum to enable the club
to carry out their campaign. Others followed the great man of the town,
according to their ability. And others, again, pledged themselves to
lend any sum that might be required to make up a possible deficiency.
But, so many who were able to give outright to what they called "the
good cause" came forward with their gifts, there was no chance for any
deficiency. Since the outbreak of the war, when everybody was scraping
lint, making "comforts" for the soldiers, or marching to the front,
there had not been so hot a fever of enthusiasm in Catalpa.
The soldiers of this new campaign were the lusty young heroes up in
the Agricultural Fair Grounds who were doing battle, every day, with
imaginary foes and making ready to face the real antagonists who could
not now be very far off; for the base ball season would open in a
few weeks. There was a little jealousy over the choice of a captain.
Gradually, the place of each man in the nine had been settled without
much debate. As we have seen, the list that Alice Howell had made up,
in the privacy of her own solitude, became that which the players
finally fixed upon, except that Larry Boyne went to third base and Bill
Van Orman took the place of catcher, instead of the positions which the
fair Alice had assigned them in her draft of an ideal nine.
Ben Burton was supported for the captaincy of the club by several of
the members, all of the new players, except Larry Boyne, being in
favor of choosing him. Ben was a warm champion of his own claims to
the place. Larry, on the other hand, modestly, but very decidedly,
supported Hiram Porter for the post of Captain. He was in every way fit
for it, and he and his father had done more for the new club than any
others. Besides all that, the Porters held a first-rate social position
in Dean County and that would count for something in the organizing of
the campaign. The young men considered the withdrawal of Al Heaton, and
the cause of his loss to them, and they laughed at the thought. Ben
Burton was very savage at the suggestion that his family was not just
as good as the Porters. What had family to do with base ball, anyway?
The discussion grew warm, after a while, and Larry and Ben were brought
into sharp antagonism. There had been rumors that Larry Boyne had dared
to show to Miss Alice Howell some of the little attentions with which
the young swains of the region were wont to manifest their admiration
for a young lady of their choice. He had even gone so far as to ask
her to allow him to drive her to a little dancing party given in
Darville, one of the numerous rivals of Catalpa, a little prairie town
on the Rush River Railroad, twelve miles distant. Alice, warned by a
suggestion from her father, who exhibited a species of panic at the
bare idea of the invitation, had declined the young man's kindly offer,
and had staid at home to murmur at her hard fate. Ben Burton could not
seriously cherish a belief that Larry Boyne was "paying attention" to
the Judge's daughter; but he felt that he, somehow, owed him a grudge.
The impending storm, if any really did impend, blew over when it was
ascertained by ballot that Hiram Porter was the choice of the club. And
Hiram, who was tall, dark, strong, long of limb, handsome and skillful,
was accordingly chosen captain of the Catalpa nine. Ben Burton, with
some show of generous magnanimity, clapped Hiram on the back and
boisterously congratulated him on his having secured the coveted honor
of the captaincy. But Larry, with a manly air, said, "You'll find that
all the boys will take orders from you, Hi, with as much cheerfulness
as if we were soldiers in the field and you were leading them to
battle. Isn't that so, fellows?"
The rest of the young men noisily and heartily asserted their
allegiance to their chief, and the new club began their final
preparations for the field with enthusiasm and harmonious good-will.
By the evening lamp, that night, in Judge Howell's house, the matter
was discussed by the Judge and his daughter. "It is an excellent
choice, Alice, my child, don't you think so?"
"Certainly, papa, but it is not of very great importance, after all,
who is captain of the nine. 'The play's the thing,' as Hamlet says;
isn't it Hamlet, papa?"
"I don't know about that, my little girl, I am somewhat rusty in my
Shakespeare; but the play is the thing, I suppose. Nevertheless, since
social rank does not go for much in base ball, I should have been glad
to see Larry Boyne made the captain of the new nine."
"Oh, papa, that was not to be thought of. He is a new recruit. Who
knows how he may turn out? He may be a secret emissary from Jonesville
to 'throw the game,' some day."
"Bless my life!" cried the Judge, "I never thought of that."