BASCOME GIVES A DINNER
Of course, the story was all over college the next day, for those things
leak out, through messengers or servants, or in some mysterious manner.
But, in this case, the suspension of Sid from further participation in
the ball games, had to be made known.
"For the love of onions, what are we going to do?" demanded Tom. "We
can't do without Sid." He was quite broken up over the affair.
"We'll have to play Pete Backus in his place," suggested Phil.
"Yes, I know, but Pete----" began the perplexed captain.
"He'll have to train harder than he has been," observed the coach, who,
with Tom and some friends, were talking over the alarming situation.
"Oh, Pete'll do it, if he once makes up his mind to it, and I'll see
that he does," agreed Tom.
"Does this mean that we'll have to cancel the next game with Fairview?"
asked Ed Kerr, who was anxious to know, for, as manager, he would have
to shift his dates.
"No, we'll play 'em," replied the coach. "It will mean more and harder
practice for the next two weeks, though, and we have a game with that
Michigan school Saturday. They're hard as nails, too, I hear, but maybe
it will do our fellows good to get a few more drubbings. It may wake
them up, for there's no denying that the fellows are not playing up to
the mark."
"I'm sure it's not my fault," began Tom, a bit aggressively.
"I didn't say it was," retorted Mr. Leighton, and there was a sharp tone
in his words. "Only we've got to play better if we want to win."
Tom, with a fierce feeling in his heart, put his men through a hard
practice previous to a game with the scrub team, and the men seemed to
wake up. Pete Backus surprised his chums and himself by knocking a home
run.
"That's the stuff!" cried Tom.
"Work like that wins games," added the coach, brightening up a bit.
Tom and Phil, in tacit agreement with the rest of the athletic set,
had avoided mentioning Sid's disgrace, but coming home from practice
that afternoon, Tom, seeing his chum, curled up in the old armchair,
studying, could not help remarking:
"What in the world did you do it for, old man? You've put us in a fierce
hole."
"I'm sorry," spoke Sid contritely.
"Why don't you explain?" asked Phil.
"I can't."
"You mean there's nothing to explain?" queried Tom.
"You can put it that way, if you like. I wish you fellows would let me
alone."
"That's all right, Sid," went on Tom, "but when we count on you to play
on the team--and when we need you--to go back on us this way--it's
not----"
"Oh, let me alone; will you?" burst out the unfortunate one. "Haven't I
got troubles enough? You know it hurts me, as much as it does you, not
to play. Don't I want to see Randall win?"
"Doesn't look much like it," mumbled Phil.
"Say, look here," exploded Sid, "if you fellows don't want me here any
longer, just say so, and I'll get out." He sprang to his feet, and faced
his chums, a look on his face they had never seen there before. It
brought to them a realization of what it all meant, though they could
not understand it.
"Oh, hang it all, we're getting too serious!" declared Tom. "Of course,
we want you to stay here--we wouldn't know what to do if you left us.
Only it's tough on the team."
"Glad you appreciate my abilities," remarked Sid, with a little softening
of his manner. "I'm as much broken up over it as you are. All I can say
is there's been a big mistake, and all I ask for is a suspension of
judgment."
"But if it's a mistake, why can't you tell?" insisted Phil.
"I can't, that's all. You'll have to worry along without me. I hear Pete
is doing good."
"Oh, yes, fair," admitted Tom, "but he isn't as sure a batter as you
are. We need you, Sid."
"Well, I'm sorry--that's all. It may be explained--some day, but not
now," and Sid fell to studying again.
"I don't like this," remarked Tom to Phil, a few days later, following
some practice the day before the game with Michigan, a team that had won
a name for itself on the diamond.
"Don't like what, Tom?"
"The way some of our team are playing and acting. They seem to think any
old kind of baseball will do. They play fine--at times--then they go to
pieces. Then, too, there seems to be a sort of clique forming in the
nine and among some of the subs. There's too much sporting around, and
staying out nights. Too many little suppers and smokers."
"Leighton doesn't kick--why should you?"
"He doesn't know it, but if it keeps on I'm going to tell him, and have
him stiffen up the men. Ed Kerr's got to help, too. Bert Bascome is
responsible for some of it. He's got lots of money, and he spends it.
Then, with his auto, he's playing old bob with some of the fellows,
taking them on joy rides, and keeping them out until, first they know,
Zane will have them down on his list."
"Oh, it's not as bad as that, I guess."
"It isn't, eh? You just watch, that's all," and Tom kept moodily on to
his room. On the table were three envelopes, one each for the captain,
Sid and Phil.
"What's up?" asked Phil. "I wonder if Ruth is going to have a blow-out
again, or if Madge----"
He opened his missive and began to read it, Tom already having perused
his.
"There, what did I tell you?" asked the captain. "Bascome is giving a
dinner to-night, and he wants the whole 'varsity nine, and the subs, to
attend. The little puppy! He gives himself as many airs as if he was a
senior. Why doesn't he dine the freshman nine, if he has to blow in his
money?"
"Are you going?" asked Phil.
"Going? Of course not, and none of the nine will, if they have to ask
me. It will break them all up for the game to-morrow. I won't stand for
it."
"What will you do?"
"Tell Leighton, and have him officially forbid it."
"Isn't that going it pretty strong? We can easily beat Michigan, even if
the fellows do have a little fun to-night."
"Look how we were fooled on Dodville Prep. I'm going to take no chances.
I'll see Leighton," which Tom did, with the effect that the coach
kindly, but firmly, forbade members of the 'varsity nine from
dissipating at Bascome's dinner.
Sid came in a little later, picked up his invitation, and read it.
"They say Bascome gives very fine spreads," was his remark.
"You're not going, are you?" asked Tom in some surprise, for he likened
Bascome to Langridge, though the latter was more of a bully, and he did
not believe Sid would take up with the rich freshman.
"Why shouldn't I go?" asked Sid, and there was challenge in his tone. "I
might as well have the game as the name," and he laughed uneasily.
"Why, none of the 'varsity nine are going," said Tom.
"Oh," and Sid turned aside, as he put the invitation in his pocket.
"Well, I'm not on the 'varsity any longer," and he laughed, but there
was no mirth in it.