HOW THE FIGHT WENT ON.
"THE batteries for to-day's game will be: Chenowith and Cummings for
Hickory' Ridge; Tubbs and Ballinger for Fairfield!"
The last word of the umpire was drowned in a roar, and the air seemed
filled with waving hats, parasols of gaudy hues, handkerchiefs, and
anything else that could be utilized for the occasion.
Then came a dead silence. Every eye, doubtless, was at that moment
riveted on the young pitcher of the nine in the field as he sent in a
few straight ones to his catcher, just to find the plate.
"They say he's got speed to burn," remarked one Basking Ridge spectator
who had never before seen Elmer pitch.
"But the best thing he's got is a nasty little slow drop that's running
Christy Matthewson a close race," commented a second one.
"Oh, shucks!" laughed a Fairfield boy close by; "wait till you see how
our fellows fatten their averages on those nice little drop balloons.
We've heard a heap about 'em, and have been practicing at hitting all
such. Why, mark my words, before the end of the fifth inning this
wonderful Elmer will be so tame he'll be eating out of the Fairfield
players' hands."
"Wait and see. The game is young," called another fellow.
"I should say it was, when the first ball hasn't been sent over the
rubber yet," declared still a fourth spectator.
"Play ball!" shouted the umpire, as he settled himself back of the
pitcher.
Again came silence as Elmer, receiving the ball from first base, rubbed
it on the leg of his trousers preparatory to shooting the first one
over.
A shout went up. Wagner, the stout second baseman, had failed to judge
correctly and "one strike" was recorded against him.
"But did you hear the swish of his bat?" demanded the Fairfield
enthusiast. "Say, if ever he leans up against one of those curves,
good-by to the ball, that's all."
"Sure! Only let him lean; that's what we say. He just can't do it on
Elmer," answered a devoted Hickory Ridge lad near by.
Then came a second strike, followed by a foul. Wagner looked puzzled.
Evidently he was watching the pitcher closely and going by his signals
to the catcher, but as these had been turned almost completely about, he
mistook every one of them and was letting himself out at what would
easily have been called balls.
When for the third time he had a strike called on him the batter retired
amid a storm of mingled cheers and catcalls. He had allowed a good ball
to pass by him without making an effort to strike, believing from the
gestures of Elmer that it was meant to be a wide one.
Wagner went off, shaking his head. He was evidently mystified, and the
Fairfield crowd began to sit up and take notice.
"That's a funny thing for Felix to do," they commented. "He's the most
reliable batter in our bunch, and yet he acts as though he didn't know a
good one from a wide curve a foot from the plate. Say, that pitcher
must have him locoed."
Next came Adrian Cook. He, too, was known as a hitter, and when he
stepped to the batter's line the fielders were accustomed to backing
off, ready for a terrific drive.
But it began to look as though Adrian must have forgotten to bring his
batting clothes along with him, judging by the way he swiped at the
empty air twice, and then managed to pop up a measly little foul that
Mark easily smothered in his big catcher's mitt.
"What are we up against?" the Fairfield crowd began to say.
"Oh, that's nothing," others put in, more confident. "The boys will wake
up after a little. You wait and see them take his number. Once they
begin, the air will be full of balls and those fielders' tongues will
hang out of their mouths from chasing them!"
So they talked, as all partisan crowds do, while Bastian toed the mark.
He looked particularly dangerous as he half crouched there watching
Elmer like a cat might a mouse he expected to devour.
But Bastian was no better than the others who had preceded him. He had
two strikes called on him by the umpire without having even made a
motion.
"Hey, wake up! Get out of that trance. Jack! He's feeding you good ones
and you don't know it! Now, altogether, and send one out in center for a
homer!"
Jack did his best, just as Elmer knew he was bound to. He believed he
saw the pitcher signal that he meant to cut the middle of the plate with
the next; when in reality it was intended to be a wide one. And so he
too perished, amid the cheers of Hickory Ridge, and the groans of
Fairfield.
By the time another chance at bat came for Matt Tubbs's band, there
would be excited conferences going on. These heavy batters would soon
awaken to the fact that the signals given to them by Lon Braddock were
all wrong; and that by trying to take a mean advantage of Elmer they
were only digging their own graves.
Matt Tubbs was certainly at his best that day; and he had always been
known as a clever pitcher. Ted followed the fate of the three Fairfield
batters, and along the same road, for he struck out.
Toby lifted a great fly that soared away up in the air. He was making
for second under full steam, believing that McDowd out in center field
could never get under the ball, when the cheers that broke forth
announced a clever catch. And Toby was compelled to walk back to the
bench, resolving that another time he would try to put it far over
McDowd's head.
Lil Artha succeeded in placing a corking one that landed him on first,
to the accompaniment of riotous cheers; but he died there; for Chatz was
able only to connect with the ball after he had had two strikes called
on him, and put up one of those miserable pop fouls that make a batter
rave.
So the second inning began.
When Cobb had also fanned at most unreasonable balls, that could never
have been hit, his comrades stared at each other. There was a hasty
conference. Then Matt Tubbs was observed to say something to the next
batter, Poole.
Elmer smiled broadly at Mark, and nodded. It was just as though he had
remarked the words: "It's all off, Mark, they've finally caught on to
the fact that we've switched our signals. And now to play a different
brand of ball!"
That was exactly what the Fairfield players had decided. When such
batters made guys of themselves trying to meet balls that never came
where they expected to find them, the truth could not long remain
hidden. And now Tubbs had told his players to forget entirely everything
they had learned from Lon Braddock. They must depend on their own
judgment of balls, and nothing else.
Poole struck a vicious one, but it fell foul clearly enough, so that
there was no chance for any disputing the umpire's decision.
"See that!" exclaimed a spectator; "they're getting his size already. If
that had only landed fair it would have been a two-bagger."
Elmer realized that the time had already come to play the game. The next
one he sent in was with exactly the same movement that he used to shoot
a cannon-ball express over the rubber; yet it hung there in the air in
the most exasperating manner, passing over the plate long after Poole
had struck.
Then arose a tremendous shout as the crowd became aware of the fact that
Elmer had disclosed his long suit--that tantalizing floating drop by
which Matthewson long ago won his fame on the diamond.
"Get that, did you, partner!" laughed the Hickory Ridge backer, turning
to the adherent of the rival nine. "Now you'll see who's going to do the
eating out of hand business. Before the ninth inning comes he'll have
your fellows breaking their poor old backs trying to connect with that
dead one. Just wait, and see the fun!"
Poole did not get on base, but perished on a feeble little infield hit
that Lil Artha gobbled close to the bag, prancing back with ease.
"Gee, look at that daddy-long-legs, will you!" shouted an amazed
Fairfield rooter, as he stared at the way Lil Artha got over the ground.
"Hey, if he ever gets his base he c'n just _step_ down to second! No
cutting him off by a throw."
McDowd, the center fielder, generally a reliable batter, did succeed in
making a hit, the ball just eluding the fingers of Red at short, as he
jumped up in the air, hoping to make a dazzling stop.
But it did him no good. Elmer just toyed with Mulligan, and after
feeding him two swift curves with which he could not connect, he gave
him one of those lovely slow balls. Now Mulligan was a crafty chap, and
he saw what was coming. Thinking to have the laugh on Elmer, he declined
to strike; and was already grinning with joy over his smartness, when
the ball seemed to receive a new impetus somehow, and went jumping by.
"Batter's out!" declared the umpire; at which Mulligan dashed his bat
down, and walked away, also shaking his head.
The crowd yelled like mad. This was work well worth coming miles to see.
"He's got them all guessing," shouted Larry Billings, who was also in
uniform as a substitute. "If they strike at it, they fan the air; and if
they hold off the umpire says 'get out!' It's a cold, cruel world,
Fairfield!"
Red was first to face Tubbs in their half of the second. He waited until
he had two strikes and three balls called; and then, knowing that the
pitcher in nine cases out of ten tries to put one straight over, Red
lined it out for a single.
Ty stepped up with a firm manner, and gripped his bat as though he meant
business. He spoiled several good ones by knocking long fouls, and
finally walked. As two were now on bases with nobody out, the chances
for a tally looked good to the Hickory Ridge fellows.
Amid a chorus of shouts Matty stepped up and, hitting the first ball a
tremendous swipe, sent it speeding through the air. Everybody jumped up
to see where it went.
They saw the agile Felix Wagner near second make a leap upward. As he
came down he whirled, and sent the ball into second; and Mulligan, who
had darted thither was just like lightning in getting it down to first.
Red and Ty were thus caught between bases and a most brilliant triple
play had been accomplished.
"Why, he caught it!" gasped the Hickory Ridge enthusiast, as though
unable to believe the evidence of his eyes.
"You just bet he did," mocked the other fellow. "And the whole side's
out in two shakes of the lamb's tail. Zip, bang, splash; and it's all
over! That's the way we do it."
The crowd went fairly wild, even the people from Hickory Ridge joining
in the applause that greeted this clever play.
And so the game went on, both sides struggling like giants for an
opening; yet the third, fourth and fifth innings passed with no one
getting past that fatal second.
The first half of the sixth opened with Fairfield looking dangerous.
Elmer had passed Wagner, it being the first time he had given anyone
transportation on four balls. Cook went out on three strikes, being led
to bite at a slow one in the critical moment. Bastian hit for a single,
and by clever running Wagner managed to reach third.
The crowd sat up and began to figure on a run, as there was only one man
out, and almost any kind of a fly would allow Wagner to come in.
But they counted without their host. Cobb failed to do anything, also
going out on the three-strike route. And Poole shot one straight for Red
at short, who gathered it up in fine shape, getting the ball to first
ahead of the runner.
A sigh went up from the great crowd. With the Fairfield rooters it
signified despair; while those who were backing the other team expressed
their relief that Elmer had managed to get out of a hole successfully.
"Now, fellows, it's time we did something," remarked Lil Artha, as the
boys settled down on the ground, and Toby was selecting his bat, it
being his turn to toe the rubber.
"Right you are, old hoss," remarked that worthy, grimly. "We've tried
Matt Tubbs out, and got his wrinkles down pat. Just keep your eyes on
me, and see if I don't flatten out one of his benders for keeps!"
"More power to your elbow, Toby," said Lil Artha. "Just get your base
somehow, and depend on me to chase you in."
"And he can do it, Toby," declared Chatz, as the batter passed him.
"Yes, I've just got to, boys," chuckled the tall captain, as his eye
roved out toward that particular place where Elmer had told him to aim;
just as though he might be picking a good spot to land his ball.