BUCKING THE TIGER
"Hurray! Matson is going to pitch for us!"
"Get out! He's barred!"
"Not now. It's all off. He'll pitch against Princeton!"
"Where'd you hear it?"
"What's the matter with Weston?"
"Oh, he's gone--vamoosed--flew the coop. Couldn't stand the disgrace.
It'll all be out in the morning."
Student meeting student on the campus, in dormitories, in the commons,
at Glory's--anywhere in fact, passed these, and similar remarks.
"And to think you knew, all the while, that Weston put that red paint on
the steps, and you wouldn't squeal!" cried Spike, clapping his chum on
the shoulder.
"Would you?" asked Joe quietly.
"Well--er--now you have got me, old man! But it's all right. Come on out
and celebrate."
And they celebrated as they never had before. Joe was given an ovation
when he entered Glory's, and every member of the nine--substitutes and
all--were there to do him honor. That is, all but Weston and De Vere.
They had quietly taken themselves from Yale.
The explanation was simple. Weston had, as my readers know already, put
the red paint on the professor's steps. He was not discovered, for Joe
kept quiet. Then, when our hero was preferred as pitcher, in the
bitterness of his heart, Weston planned to throw suspicion on him. He
sent the first anonymous letter, though Avondale knew nothing of it.
Then Weston took De Vere into his confidence and the two evolved the
scheme of smuggling the pot of red paint, that Weston had used, into
Joe's closet. The epileptic lad, Charlie, was the innocent medium, and
once the paint was hidden Weston sent the second anonymous letter to the
Dean, telling about it.
What happened is well known. Joe was accused, and would not inform on
another to save himself. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do--certainly
he owed it to himself to have the right to vindication. I am not
defending him, I am only telling of what happened.
Then came the dramatic episode, when Spike unwittingly brought out
the truth from Charlie. It seems that the boy's conscience had been
troubling him, for though Weston pretended it was only an innocent joke
he was playing on Joe, the lad suspected something.
And so the full explanation was made to the Dean, and the latter,
publicly, at chapel the next morning, begged Joe's pardon, and restored
him to his full rights. As for Weston and De Vere, they were not in
evidence. They had left Yale.
"Sharp practice from now on," ordered Mr. Hasbrook, when the excitement
had quieted down somewhat. "We'll have to replace De Vere at right
field, but otherwise the team will be the same as before. Matson, you'll
pitch, of course."
"And he'll win for us, too!" cried Spike.
"I'm sure I hope so," went on the head coach. "Spike, if it wasn't so
late in the season I'd let you catch. You deserve something for your
share in this."
"Oh, I wouldn't think of catching now, though it would be great,"
declared Joe's chum. "Give me a chance next season."
"I sure will," said the head coach. "Get busy now, everybody. We've got
to beat Princeton!"
"Oh, Joe, do you think we'll win?" asked Spike, half nervously, the
night before they were to start for New York to meet their rivals.
"Win! Of course we'll win!" cried Joe, and though so much depended on
him, he was the coolest member of the team.