IN THE FIELD.
It was an impressive occasion when the Catalpa club started on their
first pilgrimage. They had arranged a practice game with the Black Hawk
Nine, of Sandy Key, in the central part of the State, to begin the
season with. Other games were arranged for later work, but this match,
which was partly for practice, and partly to test the material of the
new nine, was felt to be one of the most important. From Sandy Key the
Nine were to go to Bluford to play the famous "Zoo-zoo Nine," as they
called themselves, of that city, and then they were to begin a struggle
for the championship of Northern Illinois with the Red Stockings of
Galena. How much depended on the result of the meeting of the Black
Hawks and the Catalpas, you who have followed the career of a base ball
nine can best reckon.
In Catalpa, at least, the game would be watched with great, although
distant, interest and absorption. Two or three of the more active
promoters of the Base Ball scheme were to go down to Sandy Key, which
is on the Illinois Central Railroad, to witness the struggle of their
favorite champions with the strangers. The Black Hawks were renowned as
fielders. They had acquired a reputation that inspired terror among the
base ball players of the southern portion of the state; and when it was
noised abroad that a new nine from Dean County, heretofore unknown in
the Diamond Field, had actually challenged the Black Hawks, experienced
amateurs and professional players made remarks about the assurance of
the new men from the North that were not intended to be complimentary
or encouraging.
The Catalpas had adopted blue as their standard color, and a uniform
of blue and white, with a pennant of white, edged and lettered with
blue, carried the colors of the club into new and untried fields. Great
was the enthusiasm of the townspeople when the club, packed into two
big omnibuses, with their friends, finally departed for the railway
station, which was on the outer and upper edge of the town. A vast
number of sympathizing friends and well-wishers attended the party to
the station, and those who remained in town watched with a certain
impressiveness the coming train as it skirted North Catalpa, crossed
the tall trestle work that spanned the river below the town and finally
disappeared in the grove of trees near the depot.
It had been told all abroad that the new nine was to make its first
sally on that train, and the jaded and dusty passengers from the
North looked from the windows with languid interest as the lusty young
fellows made a final rush for the cars, followed by the irregular
cheers of the bystanders and accompanied by a goodly number of their
old associates who were "going to see fair play." The conductor, with
an affectation of indifference that he did not feel, disdained to look
at the surging and animated crowd, but turned his face toward the
engine, waved his hand, and shouted "all aboard!" just as if he did
not carry Catalpa and its fortunes with him. The train rolled away,
innumerable handkerchiefs and caps waving from its windows, and hearty
and long resounding cheers flying after it. A cloud of yellow dust,
a hollow rumble of the train on the culvert beyond, a tall column of
blackness floating from the engine over the woods, and the Catalpa Nine
were gone.
"I never felt so wrought up in all my life," said Alice Howell,
confidentially, to her friend Ida Boardman, as they descended the hill
toward the town. "It seems, sometimes, as if I was sure that our Nine
would win, and then, again, I am almost certain that they will be
beaten by the Black Hawks. I saw the Black Hawks play the Springfields,
last summer, and they were glorious players; such fielding! Oh, I am
almost sure they will out-field our boys."
"If our nine were all like that Larry Boyne; why, isn't he just
splendid? If they were all like him, I should have no fears for
Catalpa. And then there's Hiram Porter, how beautifully he does handle
the bat! Don't you think Larry Boyne is the handsomest young fellow in
the Nine, Alice?"
Alice colored, she knew not why, as she made answer: "I don't see what
good looks have to do with playing. You are so illogical, Ida. What do
you think of Ben Burton, for example. Don't you think he is handsome
enough to make a good player?"
"Ben Burton! why he is perfectly horrid, and so disagreeable and high
and mighty in his ways. I detest him, and if anybody loses the game,
to-morrow, I hope it will be he. No, I take that back, for I cannot
bear to think that anybody will lose the game for our Nine. Do you,
Ally?"
Alice agreed most heartily with her friend that it would be a strange
and lamentable catastrophe if the game at Sandy Key should be lost by
the Catalpas.
"But I am afraid, I am afraid," the girl repeated as the twain
slowly paced down the plank walk leading to the town. Her words were
re-echoed, that day, many times by the people of Catalpa who would have
given a great deal if "the boys" could have been thereby assured of
success on the morrow.
Meantime, as the train was speeding onward, the nine were in high
spirits and full of fun. For a time, at least, their thoughts were
with those left behind rather than with the unknown adversaries that
were before them. They were too young and buoyant to borrow trouble.
Their spirits rose as they plunged forward into new scenes, and all
suggestions of possible defeats were left unheeded for to-day.
Only Larry, "older than his years," felt a little foreboding at the
entrance of this most important crisis of his young life. But his
cheery face showed no sign of distrust or anxiety. He was, as usual,
the center of a lively and talkative group of his comrades. He wore
in his button-hole a delicate knot of flowers which had come there so
mysteriously that none of the noisy fellows about him could guess who
had put it there.
"Who is she? Why didn't we see her?" queried the laughing boys as
they pressed around Larry, affecting to sniff great delight from his
nosegay. Larry's face beamed as he told them that this was a reminder
that every Irishman must do his duty, and that he was going to carry
the little bouquet to the field of victory for the Catalpas.
"Those pansies grew in Judge Howell's garden," said Ben Burton,
surlily, from his seat. Larry's eyes flashed at the covert insult that
he thought he saw under Ben's sneer. But he said not a word.
"For shame, Ben Burton!" cried Al Heaton, "for shame to call names like
that!"
There was a little cloud over the sun for a fleeting moment. But
Larry's bright face and cheery voice soon dispelled the transient
shadow, and the talk was turned into merrier channels. Ben Burton
grumbled to himself, and, as he saw how his fellows clustered around
Larry, whose brown and shining curls were only now and again visible
among the lads who pranced about him, he said to Bill Van Orman,
"Thinks he's the biggest toad in the puddle; don't he, Bill?" Bill,
whose nickname was "The Lily," because he was so big, and red, and
beefy, only opened his eyes in surprise.
The telegraph office in Catalpa was in the second story of Niles's
building, a brick structure on the main street of the town and chiefly
occupied by lawyers and doctors. The narrow stairway was found too
narrow for the throngs of people who flocked thither, next day, to
learn the news from the contest in Sandy Key. Arrangements had been
made by _The Catalpa Leaf_, the only daily paper in the place, to
publish bulletins from the base ball ground, as fast as received. To
all inquirers, Miss Millicent Murch, "the accomplished lady operator,"
as the local newspapers called her, stiffly replied that the telegraph
office had no news to give away and that the editor of _The Leaf_ would
distribute his intelligence as soon as received.
Even to so great a personage as Judge Howell, who early appeared
in search of information, the young lady gave her one unvarying
answer. But public excitement ran high when, about two o'clock in
the afternoon, a despatch from Al Heaton was received by his father,
saying that the game had been called and that "the boys were in tip-top
condition." Mr. Heaton signified his intention of staying at the office
or thereabouts, until the game was over, in order to receive Al's
despatches.
"Is Albert going to send despatches from the ball ground, all day,
Mr. Heaton?" asked Alice Howell, who, with sparkling eyes, was eagerly
waiting for news from the absent company.
"Indeed he is, Alice," said Mr. Heaton. "That is what he went down to
Sandy Key for, and I think you know my boy well enough to believe that
he will keep us informed. Al is as much of an enthusiast in base ball
matters as you and I are, my dear, and if he is alive and well we will
hear from him until the fortunes of the day are decided." Mr. Heaton
smiled in a kindly way as he looked down into the bright face of the
young lady, and added, "And I believe and hope that he will send us a
pleasant message before the day is done. Depend upon that."
"I hope so too, Mr. Heaton," Alice replied, with a slight cloud passing
over her countenance, "but somehow, I feel as if we were to be defeated
this time. I don't know why. But that is my superstitious notion about
it."
Meantime, the telegraph machine had been industriously ticking and Miss
Millicent writing as industriously, while the bystanders were talking
in low tones.
"A message for Mr. Heaton," said the operator, with perfect composure,
as she folded and placed in an envelope, duly addressed, a telegraph
despatch which she handed to Mr. Heaton.
"Hateful old thing!" murmured Miss Ida Boardman, "she has had that
message all the time and said nothing about it until she got good and
ready."
"Hush!" said Alice, in a sort of stage whisper, "let us hear the news."
Mr. Heaton, having glanced hurriedly over the despatch, cried, "Good
news from the boys! Hear this!" A dead silence prevailed in the office
as the beaming miller read:--
_Hurrah for our side! First two innings over. Catalpas score two.
Black Hawks none. Great excitement in Sandy Key. Everything lovely._
_ALBERT._
"Hooray!" broke from many lips, and the waiting crowd below the
windows, hearing the cry, took it up and a fusillade of irregular
and scattering hurrahs scattered along the street. Judge Howell, who
had lingered during the noonday recess of his court, admonished the
crowd that the lady at the telegraph desk would be embarrassed by the
confusion, whereupon the company went out and added their joy to that
of the assemblage that crowded around a bulletin that was at once
posted by the door of _The Catalpa Leaf_ office.
"What did I tell you, Alice," said Miss Ida, regardless of the fact
that she had told her nothing. "Didn't I say that the Catalpas would
win?"
"But the game has only just begun," said Alice. "I am still hoping and
fearing, and I am not going to be put off of my base, so to speak,
by the first news which happens to be good. Only two innings, Ida;
remember that."
The cheering of the small boys and the excited comments of the still
smaller girls, however, proved infectious. One would think that a
great battle had been fought, and that victory was already assured to
the household troops. The dry-goods man laid down his yard-stick; the
carpenter dropped his plane, and even the old bridge-tender forsook his
post long enough to stroll into the nearest barber-shop and ask for the
news from "the boys" in Sandy Key.
"Another bulletin!" cried Hank Jackson, the burly short stop of the
Dean County Nine, as the tall form of Mr. Heaton emerged from the
telegraph office. This time, the face of the ardent champion of
Catalpa's prowess was not illuminated by a smile. Mounting a convenient
dry-goods box, he announced that two more innings had been played and
that the score then stood two and two, the Black Hawks having made two
runs, and the Catalpas having added nothing to their score. A blank
silence fell on the assemblage and Henry Jackson vengefully planted his
big fist, with a tremendous thud, upon the short ribs of a side of beef
that hung from the doorway of Adee's butcher shop. "That for the Black
Hawks," he muttered, with clenched teeth.
But a great triumph was in store for the friends of the absent sons of
Catalpa. Even while Alice Howell was trying to cheer her despondent
friend Ida with the suggestion that the game was "yet young," the
Editor of _The Leaf_, whose despatches were sent to him across the
street in a flying box attached to a wire, put his dishevelled head
out of his office window and excitedly cried, "Three cheers for the
Catalpa Nine! Fifth inning, Catalpas, five; Black Hawks, one!"
There was something like a little groan for the discomfited Black
Hawks and then a wild yell broke out for the home nine. The small boys
hurrahed shrilly and lustily, and even the street dogs, sharing in
the general joy, barked noisily and aimlessly around the edges of the
crowd. Miss Anstress Howell, scanning the joyful mob from the windows
of her brother's office, remarked to herself, with aggravated sourness,
that it was perfectly ridiculous to see Alice mixing herself up there
in the street with a lot of lunatics who were making themselves absurd
over a pesky base ball game, away down in Sangamon County. It was
unaccountable.
Judge Howell, sitting on his judicial bench in the court-house on the
hill, heard the pother in the town below and covertly smiled behind his
large white hand to think that the home nine was undoubtedly doing well
in Sandy Key.
Once more the traditional enterprise of the daily press vindicated
itself with the earliest news, and Editor Downey put out of his
office window his uncovered head, every hair of which stood up with
excitement, as he bawled, "Sixth inning, Catalpas, none; Black Hawks,
two. Seventh inning, no runs scored."
"Now you yoost keep your big fists out of my beef!" said Jake Adee,
with his wrathful eye fixed on Hank Jackson, who was looking around
for some enemy to punch. There was depression in the crowd, but Alice
Howell smiled cheerfully in the rueful face of Mr. Heaton and said that
she felt her spirits rising. She was getting more confident as the rest
of the party became despondent.
[Illustration: "THREE CHEERS FOR THE CATALPA NINE."--Page 78.]
The innings had been made rapidly. Scarcely an hour had passed, and,
so intense was the interest in the game, that everybody thought the
despatches had trodden upon each other in their hurry to tumble into
Catalpa. It was a warm, bright day, and the prairie wind blew softly
down the hill above the town. To look into the knots of people standing
about the street corners, one would suppose that it was an August noon.
Everybody was perspiring. It was a warm engagement down there in Sandy
Key where the boys were vigorously doing battle for the honor of old
Catalpa. But it seemed even hot in the town where the people waited for
the news.
So when Mr. Heaton, radiant with joy, and without waiting to come down
the stairs of the telegraph office, put his leg and his head out of the
window of the building and cried "Good news again!" everybody stood
breathless. As Miss Anstress Howell afterwards remarked, with disdain,
one might have heard a pin drop.
_Victory! victory! Eighth inning, Catalpas, nine; Black Hawks, none.
Glory enough for one day. Your loving son,_
_ALBERT_.
Then went up a shout that reached the jury in the case of the County
of Dean against Jeremiah Stowell, shut up in the close room provided
in the court-house for jurors and other criminals, and which startled
Judge Howell, who, looking out of the window from his private room,
beheld his daughter, flushed and almost tearful with joy, hurrying
across the court-house green, eager to tell her father the good news.
The solitary horse-thief in the jail heard that hurrah and wondered
if relief was coming to him from his long-delayed accomplices. Dr.
Everett, reining his sturdy steed at the next street corner above the
telegraph office, asked a wandering small boy what had happened, but
got no answer, for the urchin was off like a shot to tell his mates
who were bathing prematurely down under the mill dam. And careful
housewives, making ready their early suppers, in houses beyond the
railroad track, heard the yell of triumph, and softly laughed to be
told in this far-off way that the Catalpa nine were victorious over
their adversaries in Sandy Key.
The game was virtually decided. The ninth and last inning showed one
run for the Catalpas and a "goose egg" for the Black Hawks. There was
more cheering in the street under the windows of the telegraph office.
Somebody suggested that the flag should be hoisted on the Court House,
but fears of Judge Howell's displeasure and veto prevailed, and the
proposition fell dead. Hiram Porter's father, however, raised the stars
and stripes over the Catalpa House of which he was proprietor. Editor
Downey flung out from his third story window the red bunting with the
white Catalpa Leaf that symbolized his standard sheet to the world
below.
Later on, when the wild shower of despatches from Al Heaton, Hiram
Porter, and others of the home nine, had ceased for a time, this
bulletin appeared on the board of _The Catalpa Leaf_.
A GLORIOUS VICTORY FOR OUR NINE! OLD CATALPA TO THE FRONT!
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Catalpas 2 0 0 0 5 0 0 9 1=17.
Black Hawks 0 0 0 2 1 2 0 0 0= 5.
_First Base by errors_, Catalpas, 8; Black Hawks, 1.
_Earned Runs_, Catalpas, 7; Black Hawks, 1.
_Struck out_, Catalpas, 2; Black Hawks, 5.
_Our esteemed fellow citizen, Benjamin F. Burton, especially
distinguished himself with his fine play at short stop, and Larry
Boyne, of Sugar Grove, did some of the most brilliant work in
the game, having made the highest number of runs of any man in
the Nine, and being 'like lightning' as a third base man. Great
excitement prevails in Sandy Key, but our men have been treated with
distinguished courtesy by the citizens. The receipts at the gate were
nearly $1,000._
When Al Heaton came home, next day, he was the hero and oracle of the
hour. By reflection, he was shining with the honors of the Catalpa
Nine. Wherever he went about the town, he was sure to become the
center of an admiring knot of fellow-citizens and small boys, eager to
learn how the absent ball-players bore themselves in the arena at Sandy
Key.
"I tell you what it is, fellows," said Albert, "you should have seen
'The Lily,' as they call Bill Van Orman, get on the home base in the
fifth inning. He never stopped to look for the ball. He seemed to have
eyes in the back of his head, and just as he was on the point of being
caught out, when he was at least ten feet from the home base, he gave
a lunge and threw himself flat on his stomach, ploughed up the turf as
he plunged forwards, and, reaching out, grabbed the bag with his hands
before he could be put out. Ten feet did I say? Well, I should say it
was nearer fifteen feet. And you should have seen 'The Lily's' track
where he scooted along that turf."
"The _Leaf's_ correspondent telegraphed that Ben Burton covered himself
all over with glory," remarked Jason Elderkin. "How was that?"
"Well, you see that Ben, being at short stop, had many opportunities to
do good work, and he put in some very fine licks at different times.
For instance, in the first play he put out Harris, the Black Hawk's
pitcher, after having muffed the ball, and then picked it up on the
run. Everybody said it was one of the best in-field plays of the day.
And in the eighth inning, he made a beautiful run, stealing two bases
just as easy as falling off a log. Oh, I tell you, Ben is a first-rate
player, and they say that the Captain of the Chicago Calumets was down
there and wanted to know if Ben would go into their Nine, next season.
Ben was very high and mighty about something, and I guess that that was
what was the matter with him. He was very much set up about something."
The mention of the famous Calumets evoked much enthusiasm among the
base ball connoisseurs of Catalpa, and it was noised about the town
that that club might be induced to accept a challenge from the Catalpa
Nine. Albert Heaton, when asked what he thought of the possibility of
such an event, shook his head.
"I tell you what, Doctor," he said to Dr. Selby, "we all thought it
pretty cheeky in our boys to accept a challenge from the Black Hawks,
and it is astonishing that we got out of the scrape as well as we did.
To be sure, we came off with flying colors, and we have made a great
reputation, that is to say, the boys have, for I am not in the Nine.
But the Calumets are the champions of the State, and I suppose they
will be to the end of the season; to the end of the chapter, unless
something very unexpected happens. I guess our boys had better be
contented with the laurels they will win outside of Chicago, this year,
at any rate."
But that very day while Albert was strolling across the bridge with
Miss Alice Howell, and pouring into her ear a glowing account of
Larry Boyne's prowess in the field at Sandy Key, he told her, in the
strictest confidence, that the Catalpas would never be satisfied until
they had measured their strength with the famous Chicago nine, the
Calumets.
Alice's eyes sparkled, whether with the excitement stirred by Albert's
narrative of Larry's exploits, or at the prospect of so bold a dash for
fame as that proposed by the Catalpas, it is not easy to say. The young
girl's ardor cooled when she considered the chances against the success
of the Catalpas in so unequal a contest.
"I did not believe that we should beat the Black Hawks," said she. "I
was almost sure that we should be defeated, and when the tide began to
turn in favor of the Catalpas, I could not bring myself to believe that
we were actually going to carry off the honors of the day. It was a
famous victory, to be sure, and I hope that the Nine will be able to do
as well through the season, and then, if all goes well, another season
may see them pitted against the best nine in the state, even the best
in the country; who knows? They have made a glorious beginning, haven't
they, Albert?"
Of course this was conceded by so fast a friend of the absent Nine as
Al Heaton certainly was, and it was also clear to even an impartial
observer that the Nine had made something of a name for themselves, at
the very outset of their career, by defeating the Black Hawks, a Nine
of established reputation, victors in many fields.
"What would you think if our nine were to play the Calumets, papa?"
asked Alice that night, as they lingered over the tea-table.
"Think?" said the Judge. "I should think that it was a great piece of
assurance."
"So should I!" replied Alice; "but I wish they could do it."