RENEWED HOPES
Ray Wendell was right when he said that I exaggerated the effect that
our defeat would have upon our college mates. They were surprised and
disappointed, it is true――bitterly disappointed, for they had shared
our confidence in the nine; but fortunately we had numerous witnesses
in the omnibus load of companions who accompanied us, and who knew well
enough where the trouble lay, and what had caused our defeat. To these
witnesses I soon felt a genuine debt of gratitude, for it speedily
became evident that the reports which they brought back from the game
were as charitable to the team as could possibly be expected under the
circumstances.
The greetings which we received were kind and considerate. Fellows took
pains to make us feel the humiliation as little as possible. Early
Monday morning I met Clinton Edwards, and his first words, as he shook
hands with me, were, “Harry, you played a fine game――steady and true
right through to the end. I am very sorry you had such hard luck. It
was no fault of yours, nor the others in fact, except Fred Harrison,
that we didn’t win.”
And this was the general expression of feeling on every hand, no
one showing the least disposition to find fault with the team, but
all ready to attribute the result to ill fortune, and to extend
their sympathy. Even poor Fred Harrison came in for as much pity as
condemnation for his foolish act.
The disposition on the part of the college put new spirit into us,
and renewed our purpose to go in and regain our lost ground. That we
could entirely recover ourselves and win the Crimson Banner of course
seemed next to impossible, but we pinned our hope to the game with
the Park men. Should we be able to defeat them, we would feel largely
compensated even for the loss of the championship. I shared Ray’s
opinion that our chances of defeating Park College were very fair, for
I felt confident that our team in its altered form, with Percy Randall
on third base, would do fine work, and such rumors as had come from
Berkeley had not reported very favorably on the Park nine.
I did not, however, rely too much on these rumors, for it had been a
favorite dodge of the Park men to start reports of their condition, in
order to deceive and mislead their opponents. Of the truth concerning
their nine we could learn more after the following Wednesday, when the
Park and the Halford teams played together. Ray Wendell determined
to go over to see this game in order to obtain points that it might
be to our advantage to know. I could not accompany him, for I had a
recitation on that day, but Clinton Edwards agreed to go over, and
upon his and Ray’s experienced judgment we could rely for a proper
estimate of the abilities of our opponents.
Fred Harrison improved rapidly, but was compelled to carry his arm in
a sling for some time, and was forbidden by the doctor to play ball
again during the spring, so that Ray was relieved of all difficulty in
disposing of him. Fred was heartily ashamed of himself, and for a long
time after the game could not bear to speak of the matter. The fellows,
knowing well how mortified and humiliated he was, were careful to treat
him with as much consideration as possible, and no thoughtless or
unkind word from them ever reminded him of that unfortunate day at Dean.
What brought mortification to Fred, however, made Percy Randall happy.
The latter had been disappointed in missing a position on the nine in
the first place, and the change which unexpectedly brought him a place
delighted him.
The hope of improvement which Ray had expressed became confirmed in
me the moment I saw Percy step out on the diamond Monday noon. He had
received his notification during the morning, and came down to the
grounds with a smiling face and an air of pride. It had certainly paid
us to encourage him, for the way he took hold of balls, and the dash
and vim with which he played, convinced me that we had nothing to fear
from that quarter. As I watched him, I could only wonder that we had
not seen the stuff that was in him before. As we anticipated, too, his
spirit was contagious, and all the fellows played with a dash that was
remarkable for a team who had just returned from a humiliating defeat.
“Gee whiz!” exclaimed Tony Larcom, as he stood beside me while I was
batting the ball to the various basemen. “Percy Randall is a regular
tonic. If the fellows will keep in this form they can beat the earth.
Good boy, Percy! That was a dandy,” he added, as our new third baseman
made a dive towards short stop and captured a hard ground hit with one
hand. I nodded in approbation to Ray, who wore a smile of confidence as
he stood watching this play from second base.
At the close of our practice, Ray, Tony, and I walked back to the
college together.
“Keep it up, boys,” said Tony, “and we will see that Crimson Banner
yet.”
“Yes,” answered Ray, with a laugh, “I can see it Wednesday when I go
over to Berkeley. It doesn’t cost anything to see it, but I fancy we
may be able to capture it, too, if we can keep on in the way we have
begun to-day. We are still a little unaccustomed to the change, but
I think we will soon get used to it. The only thing I could wish for
is more time to practice. Our game with Park College comes off next
Saturday. That is just a week too soon for me. If we could have six
days’ more practice, I shouldn’t be afraid to tackle the best college
nine in the country.”
“Oh, it’s all right as it is,” answered Tony. “We’ll be in good
condition by Saturday, don’t you fear.”
“I can tell better about our prospects after I see Wednesday’s game,”
said Ray. “At any rate we will practice twice a day until Thursday, so
we ought to be in good trim. Don’t forget to be on hand at five o’clock
this afternoon,” he added as I left him.
It was a pleasant experience to Ray and myself to be walking freely
upon the campus again and attending our lectures. We had neither of us
lost ground, but were enabled to resume our places without suffering
any disadvantage from our period of suspension. This was of course due
entirely to the care with which we had attended to our studies while
lodging in town; and the knowledge of this did much to conciliate Dr.
Drayton, who greeted us both kindly, and even unbent so far as to
express his sympathy with us in our defeat――or to put it in his highly
dignified way, he “regretted that our efforts in the baseball field had
not been so far attended with success.”
Professor Fuller I had not seen during Monday or Tuesday, but after
visiting the post office Tuesday evening, I determined to take
advantage of the next hour’s leisure and pay the professor a short
call. As I turned from the main street into the lane which led to
Professor Fuller’s house I heard a light footstep behind me, and turned
quickly to see who it was. The sun had only just set, and the light was
still sufficient for me to see it was Miss Nettie who was approaching,
probably, like myself, returning from the post office. I stopped and
greeted her.
“I am going your way,” I said. “May I accompany you?”
She nodded pleasantly.
“Are you going to see the ‘Old Governor’?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes,” I answered, laughing. “Do you call him by that name, too?”
“I might almost as well,” she said frankly. “It seems to suit father so
well, and I think he likes it, too. He is at home――at least he was a
half hour ago when I left him after supper. It was only this afternoon
that we were talking about you and Mr. Wendell and the ball nine. In
fact, I haven’t talked about anything else for the past two days.”
“We were in very hard luck,” I said.
“Indeed you were,” she said warmly. “I can’t get over it. I asked
everybody I knew about it, and got all the accounts I could. You know
it is very hard for me to get the news, having no brother to tell me,
but I made up my mind I would know all about it, and I did. I was sure
it couldn’t be your fault that the game was lost. I didn’t believe
anybody could beat our nine. It was too bad about Mr. Harrison――――”
“About Harrison?” I said quickly, wondering who could have told her the
whole truth about Fred.
“Yes, about his being taken sick,” she answered.
“Oh, yes,” I said, somewhat relieved to find that the actual truth had
not reached her. “Yes, it was too bad. It happened just at the wrong
time for us.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” she went on, “for I had counted
on our winning that game. I am glad it didn’t take place here, for I
couldn’t have stood the sight of it. I know I should have cried. I
always do when I get terribly excited, and I make a perfect sight of
myself.”
“Well, we appreciate your feelings, anyhow, Miss Nettie,” I answered
with a laugh, “and I wish we had proved ourselves worthy of your
sympathy.”
“Oh, you will do better next time, I’m sure; and I think I would rather
see you beat Park College than get the championship.”
“That is the way I feel,” I said; “and if we can beat both Halford and
Park Colleges we can still tie for championship, so all hope is not
gone yet of reaching the Crimson Banner.”
We had now arrived at Professor Fuller’s house.
“If you will wait one moment I will see if father is in,” said Miss
Nettie, hurrying into the house. In a short time she returned.
“I am very sorry,” she said. “Father is engaged with some one in the
library. The door is closed, and I cannot tell who it is, but from the
voice I think it must be one of the students. Won’t you wait? He may be
at leisure shortly.”
“I have some work to do,” I answered, “so I’ll not wait. My errand
was not urgent, so I can call again. I came merely for a brief social
visit.”
“He will be sorry to miss you, I know,” said Miss Nettie, “and you must
come again soon.”
“I will, thank you,” was my response. “Good night, Miss Nettie.”
“Good night,” she responded; “and tell Mr. Wendell that we are sorry
the game came out so badly.”