ONE LAST GAME
"Say, Tom, do you know what I've got a good notion to do?"
"Indeed I haven't, Joe, unless you're going to go out West and shoot
Indians, or some such crazy stunt as that."
"Forget it! But you know I've got to start for Yale in about another
week."
"That's right. The time is getting short. Excelsior opens four days from
now, but I'm not going to drill in with the first bunch. I don't have to
report quite so soon. I'm a Senior now, you know."
"So you are. I almost wish I was with you."
"Oh, nonsense! And you going to Yale! But what was it you started to
say?"
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Say, why can't we have one last game before
we have to leave town? One rattling good game of baseball to wind up the
season! I'd just love to get into a uniform again, and I guess you would
too. Can't we pick up enough of the old Silver Stars to make a nine,
with what we can induce to play from among the lads in town?"
"I guess so."
"Then let's do it. The Resolute team is still in existence, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I haven't kept much track of them. I've been away most all
Summer, you know."
"And so have I, but I think we could get up a game for Saturday. I
believe we could get quite a crowd, but we wouldn't charge admission.
What do you say?"
"I'm with you. It would be sport to have a game. I wonder how we can
arrange for it?"
"I've got to go over to Rocky Ford for dad to-day," went on Joe, "and
I'll see if I can't get in touch with some of the Resolutes. It may be
that they have a game on, and, again, they may have disbanded. But it's
worth trying. Then you see as many of the fellows here as you can, and
get up a nine. There ought to be five or six of the old Silver Stars
around."
"I'll do it! Wow! It will be sport to get on the diamond again before we
have to buckle down to the grind."
"I hope I haven't forgotten how to pitch," went on Joe. "Let's get a
ball and do a little practising out in the lots."
The two chums, somewhat older, more experienced and certainly better
players than when we first met them, three years before, were soon
tossing the ball back and forth, Joe warming up to his accustomed work
as a twirler.
"That was a beaut!" exclaimed Tom, who was catching.
"Did the curve break well?"
"Couldn't have been better. You'll fool 'em all right with that twist."
"I'm a little stiff yet. Well, let's see what we can do toward getting
up a game."
Joe went to Rocky Ford that afternoon, and was fortunate in finding the
new manager of the Resolutes, the one-time rivals of the Silver Stars.
The team had greatly changed, and had been strengthened by some new
players. They had not yet broken up for the season, and, as they had no
game on for Saturday, the manager readily agreed to come to Riverside
with his lads, and take on the Silver Stars in a sort of exhibition
contest.
"I suppose you'll pitch?" spoke the manager, as Joe was about to leave
for home.
"Yes, I want to. Why?"
"Nothing, only maybe we better handicap your team, or else you'd better
allow us half a dozen runs to start with," was the laughing answer.
"I'm not as formidable as all that," retorted Joe. "Are any of the old
boys playing yet?"
"Oh, yes, quite a few. There's Art Church, Lew Entry, Ted Neefus and
Hank Armstrong."
"I'll be glad to see 'em again," spoke Joe.
When he reached Riverside late that afternoon Tom met him and gleefully
informed his chum that he had been able to get up a nine.
"Then we'll have a game!" cried Joe. "Will you catch for me?"
"If you think I can."
"Sure you can. Wow! We'll have some fun."
The news of the coming game between the Silver Stars--or a team somewhat
representing them--and the Resolutes aroused considerable enthusiasm in
Riverside and the neighboring towns. There was a prospect of a large
throng, and when Saturday came--with as fine a specimen of weather as
heart could wish--there was a great outpouring of "fans."
The Silver Stars were first on the field, and though the team as then
constituted had never played together, still after a little practice
they got acquainted with each other, and were soon working in unison.
Joe and Tom formed the battery, and they seemed an effective combination
as they warmed up outside the diamond. Then the Resolutes arrived and
they, too, began their practice.
"We're going to have a big crowd," remarked Joe, as he saw the stands
filling, for Riverside boasted of a fairly good field, where the
semi-professional team held forth in the Summer. But the season was
about over now.
"It's like old times," remarked Tom. "Come on, now some hot ones to
finish up with, and then it'll be most time to call the game."
The details were arranged, the umpire chosen, the batting orders
submitted, and the teams came in off the field. The Silver Stars were to
bat last, and as Joe walked out to the mound to do the twirling, he was
greeted by many friends and acquaintances who had not seen him since the
Summer vacation had started. Some news of his prospective leaving for
Yale must have gotten around, for he was observed with curious, and
sometimes envious eyes.
"Joe's getting to be quite a boy," remarked Mr. Jacob Anderson, one of
Riverside's enthusiastic baseball supporters, to his friend, Mr. James
Blake.
"Yes, he's a wonderful pitcher, I hear. Seems sort of queer how the boys
grow up. Why, only a few years ago he was a small chap, playing around
the vacant lots."
"Yes, time does manage to scoot along," spoke the other. "Well, I guess
we'll see a good game."
As Joe and Tom paused for a brief consultation before opening the
performance, the catcher, glancing toward the grandstand, uttered a
surprised exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Joe.
"That fellow with my sister--I meant to tell you about him. He was over
to your house the other night, when he and sis, and Charlie Masterford
called on your sister."
"Oh, ho! So it was Charlie that Clara was fixing up for!" exclaimed Joe.
"I'll have some fun with her. I guess she's at the game to-day. But what
about the fellow with your sister?"
"He's a Yale man."
"A Yale man--you mean a graduate?"
"No, he goes there now--Sophomore I heard sis say. She was boasting
about him, but I didn't pay much attention. I meant to tell you, but I
forgot it."
"A Yale man," mused Joe.
"Yes, that's him, with the flower in his coat. Sort of a sport I guess.
Sis said he was on the nine, but I don't know where he plays. Like to
meet him? I don't know him myself, but I can get sis to present us. She
met him at some dance this Summer, and found he had relatives here he
intended to visit. She asked him to call--say, isn't it great how the
girls do that?--and he did--the other night. Then he must have made a
date with her. Like to meet him? Name's--let's see now--I did have it.
Oh, I remember, it's Weston--Ford Weston. Want to meet him after the
game?"
"No--I--I don't believe I do," said Joe slowly. "He may think I am sort
of currying favor. I'll wait until I get to Yale, and then, if I get the
chance, I'll meet him. He looks like a decent chap."
"Yes, Mabel is crazy about him," said Tom; "but all girls are that way I
guess. None for mine! Well, shall we start?"
The batter was impatiently tapping his stick on the home plate.
"Play ball!" called the umpire, and, as Joe walked to his place he gave
a glance toward where Mabel Davis sat with a tall, good-looking chap.
"A Yale man," mused Joe, "and on the nine. I wonder what he'll think of
my pitching?" and, somehow, our hero felt a bit nervous, and he wished
he had not known of the presence of the collegian. As he began winding
up to deliver the ball he fancied he detected an amused smile on the
face of Ford Weston.