THE UNEXPECTED
It was remarkable, and even surprised Garrett himself, that Smithers
and Stockley made no capital out of their knowledge of the existence
of what appeared to be an incriminating document. The sketch of the
letter which they had shown with such assurance to Garrett, and which
that individual, with an assumption of superiority that had completely
cowed the two, had coolly kept in his possession, did have something
of a suspicious appearance.
Why did Garrett retain it? Was it a last card held in reserve to play
against his cousin's hand? Did he believe the letter to be genuine?
Finally, after all, did he wish to spare his cousin?
At this time this last consideration had no weight with him. He had
various reasons for acting as he had done. One strong one was that he
proposed to hold all the threads of the plot in his own hands and
manipulate them to his own advantage. He was by no means sure how this
evidence of Roy's supposed complicity would be received by the boys.
He felt sure that many would pooh-pooh such a document as worthless.
He did not desire to prove nothing by overstepping the mark in
attempting to prove too much.
Suspicious as the letter looked objectively, Garrett was not so stupid
as not to know there must be some very good explanation of the words;
although unsupported by an explanation they certainly did appear to
incriminate the writer, in view of all that had happened since they
were penned.
Smithers saw plainly enough that without the letter being produced
(confound that Garrett's impudence!) his words would have no weight.
This young man was quite well aware that he bore a very odorous--in
fact a malodorous--reputation among even his friends. Many knew of his
despicable ingratitude toward Roy Henning.
Stockley had a plan of his own which he told to neither Smithers nor
Garrett, and had adopted a Fabian policy. Thus it happened that Roy
Henning was spared the knowledge that one of these boys had in his
possession a copy or draft of a letter of his, which he could, had he
so wished, use against him and thus cause him more annoyance.
Meanwhile time flew on. The warm weather had come. It was now very
pleasant to be out of doors, and, of course, the great question now
occupying all interest was that of the prospects of the ball team. It
was found to the general satisfaction that there was very good
material after all, in spite of the lack of the winter practice.
Harry Gill, a fast friend of Henning, and a great supporter of Rob
Jones, was chosen captain and manager. He was a popular boy who could
write a pleasing challenge and gain and retain the good will of those
teams who even refused to play St. Cuthbert's. To the surprise of all
he secured a game with the celebrated Blandyke team, to be played on
the home grounds. This was delightful news for the yard, the more so
because it was so unexpected.
The Blandykes had assured the St. Cuthbert's boys early in the spring,
that they had played them for the last time, not because of any
disagreement or because they had been beaten previously, but because
their faculty had ruled against the long travel. Yet here was Gill, at
the very opening of the season, securing the first great game without
hitch or flaw, and on the home grounds.
The boys were jubilant. Their satisfaction was increased when they
learned that Gill, by his irresistible charm of manner, had induced
Henning to practice with the team. He could not get Roy to promise to
play in the match game, but to have him in the practice games was
something. Every one admitted that Roy was an exceptionally fine
player. Much of the beginning of the undercurrent of talk against him
in the previous fall was, it will be remembered, owing to his refusal
to have any more to do with sports, and especially with baseball.
How could he now reconcile himself to his father's positive injunction
to engage in no sports and yet play practice games? Roy had thought
the matter over and had come to a decision.
His father had told him there were to be no sports. This he adhered to
scrupulously. His father had said there was to be enough exercise only
by which to keep a sound mind in a sound body. Now to him, as to many
another healthy, hearty boy, after the long dormant months of winter,
there was need of good outdoor exercise. Where could one find it
better than in the great game? But was not this sport, in the
understanding of his father? Roy thought it was not, that is, practice
games were not. With match games it was different. He reasoned that
his father knew that he was athletic, that wheeling could not always
suffice, and that long walks were a mere winter expedient. He
therefore arrived at the eminently satisfactory conclusion that his
father did not intend, when he told him to keep a sound mind in a
sound body, that he should be altogether excluded from the game which,
above all others, was best able to secure that end. Casuists may
argue pro and con on the soundness of Roy's conclusion if they will.
We leave it to them.
It is well known that there is nothing in a college so well adapted to
the breaking up of animosities and of undesirable alliances and
dangerous particular friendships which lead to no good, as baseball.
The adage, "birds of a feather flock together," is particularly true
of boys at school during the winter season. Crowded together in a
certain circumscribed space of one or two or three halls, according to
the excellence of the college equipment, the very best boys are often
forced to form acquaintances with those with whom they would otherwise
not closely associate.
This had been particularly the case this year at St. Cuthbert's, owing
to the diversity of opinion as to the question of the identity of the
undiscovered thief. As we know, many boys were inclined to suspect Roy
Henning. Among these were some of the best ball-players. Now Harry
Gill, captain and manager, was substitute pitcher. Stockley was a
splendid first baseman, and could pitch well. Smithers, too, although
not liked generally by the boys, was too fine a player to be ignored.
Beecham, of course, was on the team, as was Bracebridge. Garrett, so
the boys declared, "would have eaten his hat" to have been selected
for a place on the first nine. Gill, however, appointed strictly
according to merit, and Andrew rose no higher than substitute for
third baseman. That, however, was something in a place like St.
Cuthbert's, because the substitutes, beside traveling with the team,
were always the opposing team in practice games, and during the spring
and early summer saw a deal of fine work.
It is an axiom that in order to play good ball, all differences of
opinion must be dropped. No team could be enthusiastic for victory
with three or four currents of self-interest or animosity thwarting
and dampening all efforts and rendering harmonious and united action
impossible.
All disagreements had been dropped, or at least hidden away. All were
enthusiastic. When Gill announced to the team that Roy Henning had
consented to play at all practice games, the percentage of enthusiasm,
if it could be measured in that way, rose very high. Now all
bickerings and animosities seemed to be forgotten, and they actually
were for a time. As far as team work went, there was one heart and one
soul. The prospects were indeed bright.
What a splendid player Roy was! He stood there in the pitcher's box, a
picture of fine young manhood. His long brown hair blowing over his
forehead appeared to get into his eyes at every move. With a graceful
leonine backward movement of the head he would toss the hair out of
his way. He was never excited. He always had his wits about him. In a
critical moment he could be relied upon. He had the habit of keeping a
piece of chewing gum in his mouth. To the uninitiated it appeared the
most important part of the game for him to keep his jaws in steady,
slow motion. Some said it kept him from becoming excited--that the
attention required to keep up the regular, slow motion of his molars
prevented any other kind of distraction. Be this as it may, he never
showed excitement, but was always calm and cool, and not unfrequently
at critical moments exasperatingly slow.
And then what an arm he had, and what movement! He seemed merely to
put his hand forward and the ball went high, or low, or wherever he
willed. He was a great acquisition to the team. The baseball
enthusiasts, which is equivalent to saying all the boys, certainly had
some excuse for chagrin when, without explanation, he retired from the
game the year before.
Who does not love the sight of ball-players on the diamond, especially
in the early summer! The bright uniforms, the brighter faces flushed
with the joy of living and of anticipation! Then the merry shout and
laugh! How it makes the blood tingle, and sends the spirit of youth
once more through one's veins!
In the last practice game before the match with the Blandykes the boys
in their uniforms, white shirts and blue pants, stockings, and caps,
presented a picturesque scene. The kindly sun, as yet not too hot,
flushed their cheeks, while the liquid blue above and the fresh tender
grass beneath their feet lent additional zest to their enjoyment. It
was the first important practice game the boys had played.
When at length it came to an end all the players clustered around Roy
Henning at the home plate, congratulating him on his pitching. Jack
Beecham and Ambrose stood a little apart, watching the group.
"Isn't it a pity, Brose, that Roy won't play against the Blandykes
next Tuesday," remarked Jack.
"Indeed it is--a thousand pities. But you may be sure he knows what he
is doing."
"Guess he does. But there's a particularly sable individual in the
woodpile somewhere! I wonder what it all means?"
"Many beside you have wondered," responded Bracebridge.
"Oh, he must play next week--must, must, we can't do without him! He
must play, and that's all there is about it."
"I am afraid he won't though. Hello, what's up? Look, here comes Mr.
Shalford. How serious he looks!"
The two boys touched their hats as the prefect approached.
"Have you seen Henning, boys? Ah, there he is!"
The prefect went to the group surrounding their ideal pitcher. They were
using all the art persuasive they could command to extort a promise from
him to play in the forthcoming match game. It is hard to say how much
longer he would have had to withstand their importunities, had they not
suddenly ceased upon catching sight of Mr. Shalford.
"Henning, I want you."
Roy disengaged himself from the crowd.
"Here's a telegram for you. The President told me to give it to you at
once, and you are to go to him immediately."
Outside of strictly business circles, the arrival of a telegram has
always its preliminary terrors. The yellow missive may contain such
startling news! The message which Roy's father had sent him was
startling enough. It read:
"Ethel is believed to be dying. Come at once. G. H."
Roy went over to where Beecham and Bracebridge were standing. Without
a word he placed the telegram in Ambrose's hand. After reading it the
three friends at once moved toward the college. The crowd of boys,
lately so loud and clamorous, were silent now, in the presence of some
unknown calamity.
Roy walked on as if stunned, for a little while scarcely knowing where
he was going. Jack and Ambrose, after one sympathetic pressure of his
hand, walked with him in silent sympathy.