TOM STOPS A HOT ONE
There was much excitement of a quiet sort when it was known what stand
Bascome had taken. He was roundly condemned by the sophomores, juniors
and seniors, and even by a number of the freshmen students. But Bascome
remained firm, and he carried the class with him. Only a few freshmen
put their names down on the petition, and they resigned from the
exclusive freshman society to be able to do so.
For there was, that year in Randall, a somewhat bitter feeling on the
part of the whole freshman class against the sophomores, on account of
some severe hazing in the fall. It had created trouble, had engendered a
sense of injury, and there was lacking a proper spirit in the college.
This had its effect, and the freshmen were almost a unit against the
nine, which (and this was perhaps unusual) happened to be composed
mainly of sophomores that season.
"What do you think of the dirty sneak?" asked Tom of Phil, to whom he
narrated the refusal of Bascome.
"Think of it? I'd be ashamed to properly express myself, Tom. It's
rotten, that's what it is. But I guess we've got enough names as it is."
"Hope so, anyhow. I'm going to send it in, at any rate."
The petition was duly delivered to Dr. Churchill, and a faculty meeting
was called. A unanimous vote of the corps of instructors was needed
to reinstate a student suspended from athletics for a violation of
the rules, such as Sid had been accused of, this being one of the
fundamental laws of the college since its inception. Now the absence
of the names of the majority of the freshman class tended to operate
against the petition being accorded an unprejudiced hearing, but what
did more to keep Sid out was the vote of Professor Tines.
The latter could not get over the destruction of his silk hat, though a
new one had been purchased for him, and when the final vote was taken he
barred Sid from getting back on the nine.
"I have reason to believe that Mr. Henderson is inclined to too much
horse-play," he said, "as indicated by what he did to my hat. Again,
if he were a popular student the freshmen would have joined in the
request. They did not, as a class, and so I am constrained to vote as
I do."
None of the faculty--even Professor Tines--knew the real reason why the
freshmen names were not down, and no one cared about mentioning it,
for it was not a thing for students to discuss with the teachers. Mr.
Leighton did his best, in a delicate way, but it was of no use. The
petition failed, and not a few members of the faculty were deeply
grieved, for they wanted to see a championship nine in Randall. Still
they would not argue with Professor Tines.
And the chances of Randall winning the championship and the loving cup
seemed to be diminishing from day to day, in spite of the strenuous
efforts of Tom, Ed Kerr and Mr. Leighton. There was something lacking. No
one could just say what it was, but there was a spirit of uncertainty,
and a sense of worriment in the nine, that did not operate for perfect
team work.
Tom threatened and pleaded by turns, but his words had little effect.
The men showed up well in practice, and played a fast and snappy game
with the scrub, but when it came to going out on the diamond there was
a lack of batting ability and an absence of team work, that had a bad
effect, and several games were won only by narrow margins, while some,
that should have been won, were lost.
"We play Boxer Hall, Saturday," observed Tom, in his room with Phil and
Sid one evening. "I wonder how we'll make out."
"It isn't the last game, is it?" inquired Sid.
"No, there's one more, and another with Fairview. But I'm not worrying
much about the co-eds. It's Boxer that has me guessing. Oh, Sid, but I
wish you were with us."
"So do I," and Sid turned his face aside.
"Can't you get back?" asked Phil. "Can't you go to Dr. Churchill, and
explain--about that bottle of liquor--you know."
"No," answered Sid gently, "I can't."
"The nine may lose," declared Tom.
"I'm--I'm just as sorry as you are, Tom," said the second baseman
earnestly, "but it's out of the question. I can't explain--just yet."
"Can you ever?" demanded Phil eagerly.
"Perhaps--soon now. I am hoping every day."
"Have you given a--a sort of promise--to some one?" asked Tom gently.
"Yes," replied Sid in a low voice. "It's a promise, and a great deal
depends on it--even more than the championship of Randall college." And
that was all Sid would say for the time being.
The game with Boxer Hall was a hard one. Tom and his men had to work
for everything they got, for Langridge seemed to have improved in his
pitching, and the fielding of Randall's enemy was a thing to rejoice the
heart of her captain and coach.
The game ran along to the seventh inning with some sensational plays,
and the score was 6 to 4 in favor of Boxer. Then Langridge grew a bit
wild, and issued several passes until the bases were full, when a three
bagger which Holly Cross knocked brought in three runs, and put Randall
one ahead. There was wild delight then, and as none were out it looked
as if Randall would be good for at least two more runs. But Langridge
got control of the ball, and struck out three men, and the next inning
Boxer put in a new pitcher--a semi-professional it was whispered, though
Tom and his fellows decided to take no notice of the talk.
Then began a desperate effort on the part of Boxer Hall to get in two
more runs in the remaining two innings. They adopted unfair tactics, and
several times the umpire warned the men on the coaching line that they
were violating the rules.
Tom managed to stiffen his work in the eighth, and, though two men got
walking papers, no runs came in, for the next three batters went down
and out under the influence of Tom's curves. But that inning saw no runs
for Randall, either, and when her men came in for their last chance Tom
pleaded with them to get at least one more to clinch the victory that
was held by such a narrow margin. It was not to be, however, and a zero
went up in the Randall space on the score board.
The score was 7 to 6, in favor of Randall, when Boxer Hall came up for
the ending of the ninth inning.
"If we can only hold 'em there," thought Tom wearily, for his arm ached.
Still he would not give up, though Rod Evert was anxious to fill the
box.
Tom struck out the first man, gave the next one a pass, and was hit for
a single by the third batter. Then the Randall captain knew he must work
hard to win. He struck out the next batter, and as Dave Ogden, who
followed, was a notoriously hard hitter, Tom was worried. A three
bagger, which was Ogden's specialty, would bring in two runs, and win
the game for Boxer.
Dutch signalled for a drop, but Tom gave the negative sign, and indicated
that he would pitch an out. As the ball left his fingers he was aware
that it had slipped and that Ogden would hit it.
He did. There was a resounding "whack" and the ball, a hot liner, came
straight for Tom. The Boxer Hall crowd set up a yell, thinking their man
had made good, and that two runs, at least, would come in. For no one
expected to see Tom stop the ball.
But he did. It was well over his head, and passing him on the right
side. He leaped into the air, and with his bare hand caught the
horsehide. The impact on his unprotected palm was terrific, and he was
at once aware that he had split the skin. But though a pain, like a red
hot iron, shot down his arm, he held on.
[Illustration: HE LEAPED INTO THE AIR AND WITH HIS BARE HAND CAUGHT THE
HORSEHIDE.]
"Batter's out!" cried the umpire. Then, amid the wild and frenzied
shouting of his chums, Tom dropped the ball, and walked in, his arm
hanging limply by his side, while Dutch and Mr. Leighton ran anxiously
toward him.
But what did Tom Parsons care for an injured hand? He had saved Randall
from defeat, for that ended Boxer's chances, two men died on bases, and
the game was over, the score being 7 to 6 in Randall's favor.