THE MARVELOUS CATCH
Wednesday afternoon, and the hands of the clock in the tower of the
Congregational Church, seen distantly over the tops of the trees,
pointed to eighteen minutes before three.
Ideal weather for Class day, hot in the sun, pleasantly warm in the
shade, with a very blue sky trimmed around the edges with puffs of
creamy-white clouds. An ideal day, too, for the big game, with plenty
of heat to make muscles responsive and no wind to deflect the ball
from its long, arching course. Kind, as well, to the wearers of
pretty, light dresses, with whom the stands were liberally sprinkled,
mothers, sisters, cousins and aunts of the important-looking graduates.
Dark-blue pennants and pennants of maroon and white drooped against
their staffs save when a moment of frenzy set them swirling above the
sloping stands.
The game was three innings old, and the black score-board behind the
back-stop held six big round naughts. Those three innings had not
been devoid of interest, however, even if neither team had tallied.
Nervousness and over-anxiety had filled at least two of them with
breathless moments. In the first and second Farview had placed men on
bases; in the second Hillman’s had got Pat Browne as far as third.
There had been errors by both sides, and more than one case of poor
judgment. Nate Beedle, pitching for the home team, and Luders, for
the visitors, had been in hot water much of the time. Yet each had
survived, and now, at the beginning of the fourth inning, with Farview
coming to bat, the game was still to be won or lost.
Laurie had been through some bad moments. For the first two innings
he and Nate had not worked together very smoothly. They had had a
half-hour of practice before an early dinner, during which Nate had
coached the new catcher and Laurie had mastered signals. Later, Cas
Bennett had given Laurie the “dope” on the Farview batters. He was
still giving it between innings, for Laurie’s mind was in no condition
to memorize. By the beginning of the third inning ten Farview players
had come to the plate, and at least ten times Nate had refused Laurie’s
signal. Of course Laurie had known that Nate was right and that he was
wrong, but it had all been mighty confusing and disconcerting. Added to
that was the continuing dread of throwing badly to second. He could peg
the ball to first unerringly enough, or to third, but the long heave
across the width of the diamond terrorized him. Once when he should
have thrown to Lew Cooper that fear of misfortune held his hand, and
Hillman’s had groaned as a Farview runner slid unchallenged to the
bag. Save for that occasion a throw to second had not been called for,
and the test was still ahead of him. For the rest, Laurie had done
well enough. He had dropped the delivery more times than he cared to
recall, but had escaped without penalty. Once the ball had got past him
entirely and bounded against the back-stop, but, fortunately, the bases
had been empty. During the first of the third he and Nate had come
to understand each other better, and constant reiteration by Cas had
finally impressed Laurie with the foibles of the enemy batsmen. Now,
at the beginning of the fourth, he breathed easier and found himself
sustained by a measure of confidence. His throw to second, before
the first of the enemy stepped into the box, was straight, hard, and
knee-high.
Farview began with a scratch hit to the left field that took an
unexpected bound away from Frank Brattle’s ready glove. Followed a
screaming two-bagger that placed the first runner on third. Only a
smart throw-in by Lee Murdock prevented a tally then and there. The
tally came later, however, and a second followed close behind it. Nate
passed a batter and filled the bases. Then a pretty sacrifice fly to
short right moved the runners up, and Farview cheered her first score.
Nate struck out the subsequent batter. Then came a rolling grounder to
Cooper and Lew scraped it up and, with all the time in the world, threw
low to first. By the time Tom Pope had turned around about three times
looking for the ball that he had stopped but not caught, the runner on
third had scored, the batsman was safe, and the chap from second was
half-way between third and the plate. Tom shot the ball home; Laurie
got it, held it, and swung downward. There was an instant’s confusion
of dust and sound, and the umpire swung his mask upward and out.
Two runs for Farview.
Farview clung to that lead until the sixth, but could not add to it.
In her half of the fourth Hillman’s got Captain Dave as far as second,
but Murdock’s fly to left made the third out. In the fifth the opposing
pitcher struck out Laurie and Nate and kindly allowed Cooper to pop a
fly to third baseman.
In the sixth things began to happen, all at once and on all sides.
Farview started the trouble by hitting through short-stop for a base.
Nate pitched ten deliveries before the next batsman at last fouled
out to first baseman. Then came an attempted sacrifice. The batsman
laid down the ball scarcely two feet from the plate, and the runner on
first was off. Laurie dashed his mask aside, scooped up the trickling
sphere, stepped forward, and sped it to second. The throw was perfect,
and Pope got the runner. Hillman’s applauded delightedly, and from
the Blue’s bench came the approving voice of the coach, “Good work,
Turner!” Laurie, accepting his mask from a Farview batsman, reflected
that maybe nothing was nearly as bad as you pictured it beforehand,
and remembered with surprise that in making the throw he had not
consciously thought a thing about it; hadn’t hoped he would make it or
feared that he wouldn’t; had simply picked up the ball and plugged it
across the diamond! Exit the bugaboo!
With two down, however, Farview refused to yield the inning. Instead,
she poked a hit across second base and another past third and so added
another tally. That seemed to distress Nate Beedle unnecessarily, and
he proceeded to pass the next batsman. And after that, with two gone
and two strikes and one ball on the succeeding aspirant, he pitched
three more balls in succession and passed him, too! Very suddenly the
bases were full, and the game seemed about to go glimmering. And at
that moment George Pemberton and the scrub catcher strode off around
the first base stand, and if the visiting crowd hadn’t been making such
a ridiculous noise the thud of ball against mitten might have been
heard from back there.
Nate was, in baseball parlance, “as high as a kite.” His first effort
against the new batsman was a ball that Laurie only stopped by leaping
two feet from the ground. Laurie walked half-way to the pitcher’s box,
amid the exultant howls of a joyous foe, shook the ball in Nate’s
face, and savagely told him to take his time. Laurie was angry just
then. Nate was snappy and told Laurie to “go on back and quit beefing!
I’ll get him!” Laurie signaled for a high ball; the batter “ate up”
low ones. Nate hesitated, shook his head. Laurie called for one close
in then. Nate wound up and stepped forward. The result was a wide one
that made the score two balls and no strikes. On the bench Mr. Mulford
was watching with sharp eyes. Nate followed with a fast ball that was
struck at too late. Laurie’s heart retreated down his throat again.
Once more he signaled a high one. This time Nate made no demur, but the
ball failed to go over. A substitute detached himself from the group on
the bench and sped around the stand. Laurie, holding the ball, glanced
toward the coach. He got the expected sign. Nate, too, saw, and began
to pull at his glove. Captain Dave joined him at the mound. Nate looked
gloomy and mutinous. Then George Pemberton came into sight, paused an
instant at the bench, and strode toward the box.
Hillman’s cheered and Farview jeered. Nate went to the bench with
hanging head. As he tossed the ball to the relief pitcher Laurie saw
Mr. Mulford pull Nate to a seat beside him and put a big arm over the
sorrowful one’s shoulders. Then George Pemberton was pitching his
warm-up balls, and Laurie was devoutly hoping that they weren’t samples
of what he would offer later. They were, but Laurie didn’t know it
then, for, with three balls and but one strike on him, the over-eager
Farview third baseman struck at George’s first offering and got it. The
bases emptied, and red legs streaked for the plate. But far out in deep
center field Lee Murdock cast one last look over his shoulder, turned,
and pulled down the fly, and Hillman’s let loose with a sound that was
half a groan of relief and half a yell of joy!
With the score 3 to 0 against her, Hillman’s pulled up even in the last
of the sixth. Craig Jones worked a pass; Tom Pope sacrificed him neatly
to second; and Captain Dave, functioning perfectly at last in the
rôle of clean-up batter, hit for two bases, and both Cooper and Jones
scored. Pat Browne was safe on a fielder’s choice, Dave going out at
third. Brattle hit safely, and Murdock was passed. The bags were all
occupied, and the home team’s cohorts roared exultantly and waved blue
banners in air. And Laurie came to bat.
I’d like immensely to tell how Laurie knocked a home run or even a
single, but truth compels me to state that he did nothing of the sort.
He swung twice at good ones and missed them, and ended by swinging a
third time at a very poor one. It remained for Pemberton to deliver
the hit and, perhaps because he was a proverbially poor batter and
wasn’t feared one bit by Mr. Luders, he selected the second delivery
and jabbed it straight at the young gentleman’s head. Luders put up a
defensive hand. The ball tipped it and bounded toward second. Three
players ran for it. By the time short-stop had got it, Pemberton was
galloping up to first, and Pat Browne had slid in a cloud of dust
across the plate. A moment later Brattle was caught off second, and the
trouble was over for the time.
The seventh began with the score 3 to 3, but it wouldn’t have remained
there long if George Pemberton had been allowed to pitch the inning
through. George was even wilder than he had indicated. He couldn’t find
the plate at all. Four successive balls put a Farview batter on first.
One strike, a foul back of the plate that Laurie missed by inches
only, and four more balls put another runner on bases. Laurie begged,
counseled, threatened. George nodded agreeably and still sent them in
anywhere but at the expected spot. When he had pitched one strike and
two balls to the third man up, Coach Mulford gave the “high sign” and
George, not at all regretfully, it seemed, dropped the ball and gave
way to Orville Croft.
Somehow Croft came through unpunished. There were no more passes,
for Croft put the ball over the base nicely, but there were so many
near-hits that Laurie’s heart was in his mouth almost every minute. If
the Hillman’s fielders hadn’t worked like a set of young professionals
in that inning awful things would certainly have befallen the Blue. The
infield showed real ball playing, and thrice what seemed a safe hit
was spoiled. Farview got the first of her runners to third, but he
finally died there when Captain Dave dived to the base-line and scooped
up a ball that was on its way to deep left.
For Hillman’s the last of the seventh made good its reputation. It was
the lucky seventh, and no mistake about it. Luck put Cooper on first
when Luders slanted a slow curve against his ribs, and luck decreed
that the red-legged short-stop should drop the ball a minute later
when Cooper took advantage of Jones’s slam to third. Perhaps luck had
something to do with the pass handed to Pope, too, but it certainly
didn’t altogether govern Captain Dave’s second long hit that sent in
Cooper and Jones and put Hillman’s in a veritable seventh heaven――I
almost wrote “inning”――of delight!
That hit ended Luders’s usefulness. He issued another pass, got himself
into a hole with Frank Brattle, and was derricked, a sandy-haired
youth named Clay succeeding him. Clay disposed of Brattle very neatly,
Murdock flied out to short-stop, and again Laurie failed to deliver the
hit that was, he felt certain, somewhere inside him. Laurie brought the
lucky seventh to a close by knocking a weak grounder to first baseman.
Hillman’s visioned victory and was joyous and noisy when the eighth
began, but after the first Farview batsman had lined out Croft’s first
offering for two bases the joy paled and the noise noticeably subsided.
And when the next red-legged batter had hit for a single it began to
dawn on the Hillman’s supporters that possibly the old adage to the
effect that he who laughs last laughs best might be true. Hillman’s
pitching staff was exhausted, and if Croft went the way of Beedle and
Pemberton――and he gave every indication of doing so――the only way the
Blue would get the game would be as a gift from Farview! The Maroon
and White took to Croft as a duck takes to water. He didn’t have much
except a couple of slow curves. His fast one wasn’t exceptionally fast,
and it generally failed to locate the plate. Those slow curves pleased
the Farview batsmen immensely. Even the tail-end of their list found
no trouble in hitting them. Laurie, watching the man on first as a cat
watches a mouse, saw more than a runner who might steal second; he saw
a victory fading into defeat.
Croft worked two strikes on the next man, and then again came the dread
sound of wood against leather. This time, though, the ball arched
high and Cooper, racing back, got under it, and there was one down.
The runner on third had no chance to score, or thought so. Then, when
Captain Dave had talked briefly but earnestly to Croft, that youth
promptly issued one more base on balls, and the sacks were filled,
and defeat loomed large on the horizon. One down, the bases full, and
Croft going the way of the others! Laurie’s gaze wondered to the bench
and Coach Mulford. And then, since to have looked at the bench at all
without seeing it would have been impossible, he glimpsed the round,
anxious, earnest countenance of Kewpie Proudtree. Laurie’s heart jumped
out of place for possibly the twentieth time that afternoon, and he
called to Captain Dave.
The game was held up while captain and catcher conferred. Finally Dave
hurried across and hailed the coach. Another conference followed, while
Farview clamored for the contest to go on. Then Mr. Mulford waved his
hand at Croft, and Kewpie, very much surprised but apparently not at
all overwhelmed, walked into the diamond, pulling on his glove.
There was a moment of silent amazement. Then Farview went delirious
with delighted amusement. The Farview stand almost rocked with the
laughter that emanated from it, laughter that came as a relief to
strained nerves and was indulged in freely. Hillman’s, recovering from
its first instant of amazement, cheered valiantly, and, cheering, took
hope. After all, it might well be that the chubby Proudtree would
prove no worse than Croft. It was even possible that he might be an
improvement on that youth. Meanwhile Farview laughed until tears came
and Laurie and Kewpie met midway of mound and plate.
“Go slow, Kewpie,” said Laurie, “and follow the signals. Take all the
time you can; hear? Waiting may worry them. Keep your nerve, son,
no matter what happens. Just pretend that you’re pitching to me in
practice.”
“Sure,” agreed Kewpie complacently. “Don’t worry about me, Nod. Let’s
go!”
One down and three on, a hit meaning two runs! It was a tough situation
that Kewpie faced. But Kewpie seemed totally unworried. Laurie saw
and marveled. His own heart was thumping inside him like a small
sledge-hammer. He wondered if Kewpie was faking that unconcern and
would presently go to pieces like the others, letting in an avalanche
of runs!
But Kewpie was right. Laurie needn’t have worried about him. Kewpie
was magnificent, if a boy of Kewpie’s size and proportions can ever be
magnificent! He was as slow as cold molasses, yes, and his delivery
elicited more amusement from the enemy, but he struck out with apparent
ease the first batsman who faced him, caused the next man to foul out
to Captain Dave, and fanned the third!
When that last of the enemy waved through empty air and then cast his
bat from him venomously, Hillman’s loved Kewpie Proudtree with a deep
and fervid passion. Hillman’s said so. Hillman’s rose from stand and
greensward and cheered his name to the blue afternoon sky and howled
and yelled and went crazy generally. And Kewpie moved smilingly back to
the bench to submit to the hugs of his companions.
There was no scoring for the Blue in the last of the eighth, for Clay
was master of the situation.
Then Farview started her half of the ninth with desperation written
large on every countenance. Kewpie, the unhurried, returned to his
job. He disposed of the Farview pitcher with four deliveries and
then faced the head of the list. That he would survive that inning
without misadventure was too much to hope for. The misadventure came
when the Farview center fielder slammed a ball into left field and
got two bases. Kewpie looked, or so Laurie though, a little surprised
and a little grieved, but he didn’t allow his emotions to affect his
pitching. He fooled the next man twice with his out-drop and finally
finished him with a slow ball that the batter struck at too soon.
Hillman’s shouted, waved, and prepared to go home.
But the end was not yet. Up came the Farview captain, and he made it
plain to Laurie at once that he wasn’t to be caught with trifles. He
demanded good ones. If he didn’t get them he wouldn’t swing. He didn’t
say all this in words, of course, but he looked it and showed it by
calmly watching Kewpie’s first offering drop by him, a scant inch
beyond the outer corner of the plate. In the end, he had his way. There
was something that suited him, and he accepted it and drove it down
third base line, scoring the man on second and placing himself on third
when the throw went to the plate. Those who had wandered toward the
exits reconsidered and stayed their steps. With a runner on third the
score might yet be tied.
The Farview right fielder had not yet made a hit, but that to Laurie’s
thinking made him the more dangerous, and Laurie worked very carefully.
Kewpie answered the first signal with a straight one over the center of
the plate, and it went for a strike. The next was also over the center,
but too high. Then again Kewpie failed. One and two now. The runner on
third was dashing up and down the path, and the coachers were yipping
like mad. Kewpie, however remained surprisingly calm. To show how calm
he was he sent in a drop that scored a second strike for him, and the
blue pennants waved triumphantly. Laurie called for the same thing
again, but this time the batter did not offer at it; the score was two
and three, and Laurie’s heart sank. The next must be good. He placed
his hands out and called imploringly:
“Right into the old mitt, Kewpie! Make it good!”
And Kewpie made it good, and, since it was good, unmistakably good, the
Farview youth swung against it with all his might.
But he hit under it, and the ball went up and up in the sunlight almost
straight above the plate. Cries arose from all sides, a confusing
bedlam of warning, entreaty, command. Laurie dashed his mask behind
him, stared upward into the blue, saw the gray sphere poised overhead,
turned and stepped back, looked again, again retreated. He was under it
now――almost. One step further toward the back-stop――
Then Nemesis took a hand, or sought to. Laurie’s backward placed foot
found the discarded mask. He strove to retain his balance but could not
and fell backward to the ground. The mask described a curve and landed
yards away. Laurie’s feet flew heavenward. His hands were stretched
wide. Then his startled gaze saw a new danger. Right above him was
the ball, falling straight for his face. Nothing save pure instinct,
the instinct that causes one to fend off a blow, brought his hands up
before him. It was, however, not so much instinct as baseball training
that brought them there palms upward. And, beyond any doubt, it was
training that caused his fingers to close convulsively about the round
object that landed with a loud smack in the hollow of his old brown
mitten!
* * * * *
The Graduation Ball was over, and as the twins walked homeward
with Polly and Mae twelve o’clock struck from the tower of the
Congregational Church across the park. There was a big round moon
riding high in the heavens, and the June night was warm and scented.
Mae was to spend the night with Polly, and so the four kept together
across Walnut Street and past the Starling house where, on the second
floor, one lighted window proclaimed the presence of Bob. Even as Ned
proposed a discreet hail, the light behind the shade went out.
“It was a lovely dance, wasn’t it?” asked Polly. Laurie, beside her,
assented. “It’s been a perfectly gorgeous day,” added Polly. “All of
it. It was such fun this morning at Miss Comfort’s. And that Mr.
Goupil is a darling duck, isn’t he? And, oh, won’t it be perfectly
corking next fall, Laurie, when we have the boat for our own? Think of
the good times we can have! It was wonderful of Miss Comfort to think
of it.”
“Bet you anything,” chuckled Laurie, “she’ll wish herself back there.
Dare say she won’t be able to sleep on shore again after a summer on
the rolling deep!”
Polly laughed. “She’s a dear, isn’t she? And, Laurie, didn’t everything
turn out beautifully this spring? Think how we ‘reclaimed’ Kewpie and――”
“Heard Kewpie’s latest? He told Ned and me before supper that he might
not be able to play football next fall because he didn’t want to risk
hurting his pitching arm! He’s a rare bird, that Kewpie!”
“Oh, he must play football! But he will, of course. Wasn’t he splendid
this afternoon? And――and weren’t you splendid, too? I just shrieked and
shrieked when you made that perfectly wonderful catch and saved the
game!”
“I didn’t save the game,” answered Laurie. “I dare say that fellow
would have struck out in another minute. Anyhow, Kewpie says he would
have!”
“But Kewpie doesn’t know, and if he had made a hit it would have tied
the score at least. Anyhow, your catch was absolutely marvelous. Every
one says so.”
A short silence followed. Then Laurie said resolutely: “Look here, I
guess you might as well know the truth about that, Polly. I didn’t
really make that catch.”
“Why, what do you mean? I saw you make it!”
“Yes, I know, but――well you see, I didn’t _intend_ to do it. I saw
that ball coming down straight for the end of my nose, and I just put
my hands up to ward it off. Of course every one thinks I’m a regular
wonder, but I’m not. It was just an accident. I――I haven’t told any one
but Ned――and you.”
“That doesn’t spoil it a bit,” declared Polly. “You did catch the ball,
didn’t you? And if you’d just been trying to keep it from hitting you
you wouldn’t have really caught it, would you?”
“That’s what Ned said,” mused Laurie. “Hanged if I know!”
“Ned’s perfectly right,” responded Polly emphatically.
“Of course I am,” said Ned as he and Mae joined them before the door of
the little shop. “But what is it this time?”
“Never mind,” said Polly. “You can ask Laurie.”
“He probably won’t tell me,” said Ned gloomily. “He hates to say I’m
right about anything. Gee, Polly, it seems funny to think that I won’t
see this place again for three months.”
“It’s horrid,” answered Polly, and Mae murmured agreement. “Still, I
suppose three months won’t seem _awfully_ long. And you _will_ write,
won’t you?”
“Certainly will,” asserted Ned. “And don’t you forget to. But we’ll see
you both in the morning. We don’t get away until eleven twenty-two.
Thanks for coming to the dance.”
“Thanks for asking us,” said Polly, her hand on the door. “Good night.
Good night, Laurie. We’ve had a lovely time.”
“Same here,” said Laurie as he tugged at Ned’s sleeve.
Ned joined him at the edge of the sidewalk, and they took their caps
off and bowed in the manner of Mr. Goupil.
“Beneath yon moon’s effulgent light――”
“We, Nid and Nod, wish you Good Night!”
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to
follow the text that they illustrate.
――Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.