SID IS SPIKED
"By Jove, but I'm glad we're going out of town for a game," remarked Tom
to Phil the next morning.
"Why?" inquired the first baseman, as he critically examined his
favorite mushroom bat, which he had mended with wire and tape.
"Because of Sid. It may put him on his feet again, after this business
of Langridge, Miss Harrison, and the newspaper clipping. Hang it all!
girls can sure mix things up when they want to, can't they?"
"Yes, but it isn't her fault. She merely doesn't care for a fellow that
gambles, and Sid can't say that he doesn't."
"I don't believe Sid gambles," said Tom quickly. "I was going to add,"
he went on, "that I'd 'gamble' on that. After the way he acted with
Langridge last night, almost coming to a fight, I think there is
something more in this than we've thought of."
"Probably there is; but why doesn't Sid come out and say he wasn't in
the raid, and clear himself? It ought to be easy enough to do, but he
doesn't do it."
"I know; and yet he may have a reason."
"Very likely. But things look suspicious. Mind you, I don't say to us,
for I'd stick to Sid, no matter what he did. But there's the fact of him
suddenly being broke, being out late several times, going off after
getting mysterious notes, and coming in smelling strongly of tobacco. It
looks bad, and I don't see why Sid doesn't own up and confess, or else
clear himself."
"Maybe he can't. But that's neither here nor there. I'm glad he and
Langridge didn't fight. Now we're going out of town to play Wescott, and
maybe get beaten, for they have a fine nine. But, anyhow, it will do Sid
good. He may come back entirely different."
"Let's hope so, for there's no fun living with him, as he is now. I was
glad when he got so infatuated with Miss Harrison, even going to the
length of taking up hammered brass work because she had a fad that way.
But since she turned him down poor Sid chucked all his brass stuff out
of the window the other day. Well, maybe it will come out all right."
"It's got to," declared Tom fiercely. "Well, I'm going down to see Kerr
and Leighton, to learn if everything's all ready for the trip."
The next day the team started for Wescott University, accompanied by as
many of the students as could cut their lectures. It was a day's trip to
the big college, one day would be devoted to the game, which was an
annual affair, and the return trip would be made the third day.
The Randallites were accorded an enthusiastic welcome as they were
escorted to their hotel by the Wescott lads.
"Remember how sick I was when we were here last year to play 'em
football?" asked Phil, as he and his chums went to their rooms.
"I sure do. Please don't repeat the experience. We want to beat these
fellows if we can."
The morning of the game did not prove very auspicious, as it had rained
in the night, and was still threatening. But when the two nines went out
to the diamond the sun broke through the clouds and it cleared off.
"Now, fellows," said Coach Leighton, as he gathered the captain and his
men about him, "you've got to play fast, snappy ball to win. We're up
against a better team than either Boxer Hall or Fairview, and I want to
see what you can do."
"If they don't do what's right they'll answer to me," said Tom, with a
grim smile.
"And if you fellows lose you'll have to walk home," added Manager Kerr.
"Sure, then we'll not allow 'em a hit," prophesied Bricktop Molloy.
"We'll whitewash 'em," added Dutch Housenlager, as he tried to trip up
Joe Jackson, but failed.
It was a fast, snappy game from the very start, Tom doing some superb
work in the box, but being fully matched by Marshall, the Wescott
twirler, who was "a southpaw," or left hander.
"He certainly's hard to hit," conceded Holly Cross, when the Randallites
came to bat in the fifth inning, with never a run scored, while Wescott
had two, one each having been garnered in the second and third innings.
"We ought to have some left-handed batters to sort of fool him,"
remarked Tom.
"I can bat left handed," said Sid, who had been unusually quiet during
the trip and the game.
"Get out! Then it's something new!" exclaimed Mr. Leighton.
"Yes," admitted Sid, "and yet it isn't either. I used to bat left handed
before I came to Randall, but I gave it up. I've been practicing it on
the quiet, lately, and if you like I'll try it now."
"It's risky," objected Tom. "Wait until we see what we can do this
inning."
But they couldn't do anything, and after three men had gone down, one
after the other, under the scientific twirling of Marshall, Mr.
Leighton, Kerr and Tom, after a consultation decided to let Sid try, as
he was to bat first in the next round.
Wescott managed to get two more runs, as the players were "finding" Tom,
and things began to look black for the visiting team.
"See if you can't rap out a home run," begged the captain, as Sid went
to the plate in the sixth. There was manifest surprise when he took the
left-handed position, and Marshall and Bradshaw, the latter being the
Wescott catcher, held a whispered consultation.
Whatever line of play they decided on availed them nothing, however, for
Sid caught a "beaut" on the end of his bat, selecting the first ball
pitched, and he sent it away over in the right field bleachers, easily
making a three-bagger of it. He could have come on home, except for
ground rules, which allowed only three bases on a ball that went among
the spectators, of whom there was an enormous crowd present, almost up
to the base lines.
"Good!" delightedly cried the Randall supporters, and the record was
soon bettered for Holly Cross came up next, and, though he batted right
handed, he managed to whale out a two-bagger, which brought in Sid and
made the first tally for the visitors. That gave them confidence and
they made three runs that inning, coming within one of tying the score.
Tom, too, seemed to stiffen in his work, and he struck out three men in
quick succession.
"Now if we can only do as well this inning," remarked the coach, as
Dutch Housenlager came up. Dutch knocked a pretty fly, and was off like
the wind to first. He never would have reached it, but for an error on
the part of the right fielder who muffed the ball, amid the groans of
his fellows. Then, for a time, the Wescott team seemed to go to pieces,
until, when the eighth inning opened, the score was tied.
Goose eggs were chalked up in the frames of both teams in the eighth,
however, the pitchers both working hard. Then came Randall's chance at
the bat in the ninth.
"One run will beat 'em, if we can only hold 'em down when they come up,"
muttered Kerr to Tom.
"I'll do my part," the nervy pitcher assured him.
It fell to Sid again, to do the trick. There were two men out, when he
came up, and it looked hopeless, but he again batted left handed, and
once more caught a "beaut" on the end of his bat. He got two bases on
it, and, by great good luck Holly Cross, next player, whaled out what
proved to be a triple, and Sid, as soon as he heard the crack of the
ball, started home.
As he swung around toward third base the player there perhaps
unintentionally got in his way. The baseman pretended that the ball
was being fielded to him, in his endeavor to throw Sid out of his
calculations, but the nervy Randall second baseman kept on. There was a
collision between him and the man covering the bag, and, for an instant,
Sid hesitated on third, and almost fell over, seizing his left foot in
both hands, and hopping about.
"Sid's spiked!" cried Tom. "The third baseman spiked him, just as he had
a chance to score! Come on in, Sid. Come on in!" yelled the captain
frantically.
There was a confusing chorus of yells, so much so that the fielder after
the ball, which had gone past him, did not know what to do, after he had
the horsehide. But by this time Sid was limping toward home, running
fairly well, but with a look of agony on his face. Holly Cross was
racing from second now.
"Home with that ball, you loon!" yelled the Wescott catcher, who saw Sid
coming, for the Wescott fielder was stupidly holding it.
Then the fielder woke up, and threw to second, hoping to catch out
Holly, who was somewhat undecided. But Sid kept on to home, and tallied
the run, though he almost collapsed a moment later, while Holly leaped
on to third.
"Hurt bad?" asked Tom, as he and several others hurried up to Sid.
"I should say so," remarked Mr. Leighton, as he saw the blood running
from Sid's shoe.
Meanwhile Holly had reached third, though the decision was close. He
died there, for the next man struck out, retiring the side, and making
the score five to four, in favor of Randall, though with Wescott still
to have a chance in the ending of the ninth.
The third baseman made all sorts of apologies to Sid, who indeed had a
nasty cut, for a spike had gone through the outer, fleshy part of his
foot. It was so evidently an accident, however, that nothing unpleasant
was said, though Sid could not play, and had to be replaced by Pete
Backus.
There was a grim look on Tom's face as he took his place in the box, and
it was justified, for he struck out two men. The third knocked what
seemed was going to be a nice hit, but Pete Backus caught it, though he
had to jump well for it, a feat for which his training stood him well in
hand.
"Wow! We've done 'em!" cried Tom, when he realized that the third
Wescott man was out, without a run having been scored by their rivals in
the last inning.
"We sure have," agreed Mr. Leighton. "Poor Sid, though. He'll be out of
it for a few days."
"I don't care, as long as we won the game," spoke the plucky lad, as he
limped along, his foot having been dressed, and peroxide applied, to
prevent blood poisoning.
"It was a glorious victory," sang Holly Cross, the others joining
in, after cheers had been given for Wescott, and returned by those
fine-spirited lads.
It was a jolly crowd that journeyed back to Randall next day, with the
Wescott scalps hanging at their belts.
"It was just what Sid wanted," decided Tom to Phil as he noted the
lively look on the second baseman's face, for he was jolly and laughing,
in spite of the pain of his injured foot.
There was a great celebration in Randall when the victorious team
marched up the campus that night, and bonfires galore glared all around.
"A feast to-night," decided a crowd of the team's most enthusiastic
supporters. "Sid Henderson will be toastmaster, on account of his great
work."
But Sid, who had limped to his room to change his clothes, shook his
head.
"Why not?" asked Tom and Phil in surprise.
"Because I--I've got to go away to-night," and Sid tried to conceal a
letter in his hand--a letter which he had found awaiting him when he
returned from Wescott with his chums.