BASE-BALL AND A HAPPY FAMILY
Almost a week after the _Juan Lopez_ had fled so hastily from the
Bay of Panama, Walter Goodwin came back in the government tug with a
body-guard of devoted marines. Although he had managed to make a good
deal of noise in the world for a youth of his years, he had no false
ideas of his own importance. As he looked at it, he had made a muddle
of things and his friends had pulled him out. He must show them that he
could stand on his own feet and they must be given no more trouble in
his behalf. Before landing at Balboa, he said to Jack Devlin:
"Please forget about me. I can jump right in and look for a job."
"Not until I have taken you to the colonel. Those were his orders.
We'll board the first train to Culebra on the chance of finding him in
his office."
"Did he really want to see me?"
"Sure. You are the prize disturbance of the Isthmus."
Colonel Gunther was in consultation with two of his division engineers
when the steam-shovel man led Walter in by the arm. Shoving aside a
mass of blue-prints and typewritten data, the colonel stepped forward
and heartily exclaimed:
"Why, here is the young man who was so handy with the broomstick! I
am delighted to know that your latest voyage has turned out so well.
I understand that you bagged General Quesada as an incident of the
adventure."
Walter blushed and replied:
"I had a lucky chance to get square with him, sir."
"The lad used his head, colonel," put in Devlin, with a broad grin.
"It's head-work that counts on the Isthmus, if you please. I have heard
you say it yourself."
"I can't thank you enough. I wasn't worth all that trouble," said
Walter.
"Oh, perhaps you were," smiled the colonel. "That remains to be seen.
Devlin told me that you were looking for work when you got into this
extraordinary scrape. You have done the Canal Commission a considerable
service. Would you like to take a position on the wharf at Balboa?"
Walter was about to answer with great fervor when a tall, spare
gentleman in khaki entered the office from another room and paused to
survey the group. Then he raised his voice abruptly and protested:
"Pardon me, colonel, but Goodwin belongs to me. I saw him first. With
your permission I will use him in the Cristobal commissary."
"Oh, how are you, Major Glendinning," and the colonel chuckled. "Has
base-ball anything to do with your lively interest in this young man?"
"Officially? No. Between us, as man to man? Yes," frankly returned the
major. "The force at Cristobal will be most unhappy if Goodwin is sent
to Balboa. They will consider themselves wronged. Their morale will be
impaired."
"Is it as bad as that?" The colonel tried to look serious. "If
base-ball is really involved, I had better surrender. I would rather
not add to my troubles."
The major bowed his thanks, and his stern features relaxed in a
mischievous smile. Turning to Walter, he said in his curt way:
"Glad to see you again. How is the arm? I called at the hospital to see
you, but you had flown off on that ridiculous voyage. Can you steer
clear of landslides and revolutions for a while?"
"I'll try, sir. I should like to lead a very quiet life. I can pitch
again before long."
The major glanced at the colonel and said impressively to Walter:
"I shall give you a job in my department, not on account of your
base-ball, mind you, but because you did a clever, plucky piece of work
on Balboa wharf. Is that clearly understood?"
"Be careful, or you will protest too much," laughed Colonel Gunther, as
he returned to his desk. "I think there is no question that Goodwin has
earned the right to a job in the Zone."
Jack Devlin shook hands with Walter and whispered:
"I had it in mind to put in a word myself. I want to break you in
at firing a steam-shovel when you are strong and husky again. But it
would have started another row over the base-ball end of it. Major
Glendinning is a stubborn man to lock horns with. So long, my boy. Your
luck has turned. I'll look you up on my first day off."
"You are the best friend a fellow ever had," said Walter.
Two days later he was put on the gold roll as a commissary clerk and
assigned to the great warehouse in Cristobal, which was filled with
groceries, dry-goods, hardware, shoes, crockery, candy, and what-not.
It was one depot of the unique system of store-keeping conducted on a
vast scale by a paternal government. After his breathless adventures,
Walter was glad to work with all his might at the humdrum task of
tallying the merchandise as it came in from the railroad cars.
He was thus engaged when his father found him. Mr. Horatio Goodwin
halted amid the boxes and barrels, and stood staring at his tall son as
if to make sure that his vision had not tricked him. Walter dropped his
tally-sheet, blinked in his turn and shouted:
"Goodness gracious, father! Is it you or somebody else?"
With this he made a violent assault on his parent, swung him clear of
the floor in a bear-like hug, and set him down in a rumpled condition.
"Are you really all right, Walter?" gasped Mr. Goodwin.
"Of course I'm all right. Can't you see it for yourself? You can't lose
me," Walter kept repeating as if he were firing minute-guns. "And what
brought you way down here from Wolverton?"
Mr. Goodwin tried to explain, but both were too excited to weave a
coherent narrative, and after waving his hands helplessly the father
cried:
"We can tell all this later. I have come to take you home with me. A
steamer sails for New York to-morrow."
"To take me home with you?" Walter's face was dismal beyond words.
This was a worse catastrophe than the landslide. "Why, father, you
don't understand. Everything is coming my way. I am on the gold roll at
seventy-five per month, and I intend to send 'most half of it home. I
had a few little upsets, but that's all past. Do you honestly mean it?"
"It is why I made the long journey," firmly answered Mr. Goodwin. "Your
mother and I cannot stand it, Walter. After she hears of the dynamite
and the landslide and the pirates she will never forgive me if I leave
you here."
"But you will give me a chance to talk it over with you?" implored
Walter. "A fellow can't afford to have his career smashed all to
flinders. Please look around first and see what a fine country this
is to live in. It is as quiet and safe as Wolverton, and a good deal
healthier."
"Your adventures sound like it," was Mr. Goodwin's dry comment. "Can
you quit work at once and come over to the hotel with me?"
"Not until noon and then I will knock off for dinner, father. It
wouldn't be square to leave my job, even to talk things over with you.
Excuse me, but I must keep this car-load of stuff moving."
Mr. Horatio Goodwin was repulsed, but by no means vanquished. For
all his mild demeanor, he had an obstinate streak, and his purpose of
taking Walter home was unshaken. As a dutiful son, Walter was sorely
distressed. He had never defied his father, nor did he wish to do so
now. But he could not bear to think of leaving the Isthmus with success
in his grasp. Resorting to strategy, he said to his father when next
they met:
"Now that you are here, why don't you spend a week in seeing the canal?
It is the greatest show on earth. You ought not to miss it. You needn't
worry about me. I am as safe as if I were clerking in a corner grocery
in Wolverton."
The suggestion delighted Mr. Goodwin, although he had a struggle with
his conscience on the score of expense. He ought to hasten back to his
desk in the coal-dealer's office. But never again would he have such a
vacation as this, and it would be easier to persuade Walter by pressing
the argument gradually. Next morning Mr. Goodwin, eager and alert, went
out to view the Gatun locks and dam.
Walter toiled in the commissary and meditated great thoughts. There
must be some way to solve the problem. He bided his time until Major
Glendinning, passing through the warehouse on a tour of inspection,
halted to ask:
"How are you going to like the job?"
"Tremendously, sir, thank you. But I may have to resign this week. My
father has come after me."
"What? Does he think you are incapable of taking care of yourself?"
thundered the major. "What's the matter with him?"
"They want me with them at home. I am too far away from the family."
"Pshaw! Does your father need you in his own business?"
"No, sir. His business doesn't amount to much at present. He was with
the Wolverton Mills for twenty years as accountant and book-keeper----"
"The mills closed down," interrupted the major. "I used to purchase
from them."
"Yes, sir. My father is a first-class man in every way, but times are
dull at home and--and--" Walter mopped his face and floundered on,
"you see, I happened to think that instead of my going home to the
family, I might somehow manage to bring the family down here. It sounds
foolish, but----"
Major Glendinning was both touched and amused. He had heard of Walter's
ambition to "give his father a lift."
"You mean to insinuate that there might possibly be an opening for a
first-class accountant and book-keeper in the canal organization?" he
queried. "Can you recommend him?"
"Very highly," was Walter's grave reply. "I have known him for
seventeen years, and he can furnish the very best of references."
"Bless me, but you are a sort of continuous performance," exclaimed
Major Glendinning. "A really first-class accountant and book-keeper!
Um-m! If you are a chip of the old block, your father deserves careful
consideration. Such men are not any too easy to find for the office
work of the various departments, even though the pay-rolls are full."
"He is at the Washington Hotel in Colon," hopefully suggested Walter.
"Of course, I am very anxious to stay on the job, and I don't want to
disobey him----"
"Perhaps you can persuade him to file a formal application," said Major
Glendinning.
Six weeks later a holiday crowd assembled in the base-ball park at
Cristobal to see an important game of the Isthmian League series. These
hundreds of cheerful, hearty Americans stood for something more than a
keen interest in the most popular sport of their nation. They showed
that the pestilential tropics had been conquered, that the northern
races could live and work and play in health and comfort where once the
fever-laden Chagres River had slain its thousands.
When the bow-legged captain of the Cristobal nine, "Bucky" Harrison,
led his men across the diamond for preliminary practice, the grandstand
greeted the pitcher with particular applause. He was tall and rugged
and of a pleasant countenance, and one might have heard the on-lookers
remarking:
"That is young Goodwin. Cristobal expects to win the championship with
him."
"He is in the commissary and doing very well, I understand."
"His father has a position in the same department, and the family
lives at Cristobal. The mother and sister are sitting over yonder. Do
you see the pretty young girl with the fair hair and the pink cheeks?
She is in the Zone high-school."
As Walter Goodwin swung his good right arm in "warming-up" practice
with the catcher, he glanced at the grandstand with an air of pride and
satisfaction wholly unselfish. His venturesome voyage to the Isthmus
had been tremendously worth while. One more achievement, and his cup
would be full to overflowing. He must prove that he could pitch winning
base-ball. But a fellow who had earned a place for himself on the gold
roll, and then found a fine position for his father, and moved the
whole family from Wolverton, ought to face the heaviest hitters of the
Culebra nine with a good deal of confidence in himself.
Shortly before the game began, Walter spied a black-haired young man,
who came running across the field, wildly waving his Panama hat. With a
joyous shout, Walter scampered to meet Señor Fernandez Garcia Alfaro,
who explained in his dramatic fashion:
"I have just now arrived from Colombia in the nick of time to behold
you play the grand sport of base-ball, my dear friend. My steamer lands
me at Balboa this morning. I jump for the train. I rush. I am in the
break-neck hurry, and here I am."
"This is a glad reunion. And General Quesada and his parrot will bother
you no more for some time," cried Walter.
"So I have heard. He is locked up in Uncle Sam's hotel with the iron
bars, which is a very good place for him. I am going back to Washington
to be a diplomat some more. And how is that dear family of yours? What
do you hear from them?"
"They are all here," exclaimed Walter, as he dragged the surprised
Colombian toward the grandstand. You may be sure that Mrs. Goodwin and
her daughter found this young man entertaining company, for he promptly
delivered himself of a eulogy of Walter as a noble, splendid young
man who had saved his life. In his own country girls of fourteen were
young ladies and to be treated as such, wherefore he instantly lost his
heart to Eleanor and was so flatteringly attentive that she felt very
grown-up indeed.
Their animated conversation ceased when the Cristobal players took
their positions in the field, and the first of the Culebra batsmen
marched to the plate. Mr. Horatio Goodwin actually shut his eyes when
Walter was ready to deliver the ball. There was one other spectator
quite as fidgety as he. It was that devoted patron of Isthmian
base-ball, Major Glendinning.
The opponents from Culebra were brawny men, and they were not at all
interested in the emotions of the Goodwin family. They proposed to
hammer the young Cristobal pitcher out of the box, and during the first
and second innings it looked as if they might be successful. That
temperamental dynamite expert, Naughton, slumped in a disconsolate heap
when he beheld Walter's pitching pounded for one hard, clean hit after
another. The game was still young, however, and the Cristobal fielding
was sharp and steady.
Walter gritted his teeth and took his punishment manfully. Jack
Devlin was catching for Culebra, and as Walter came to the bat, the
steam-shovel man muttered behind his mask:
"See here, my boy. I'll turn traitor for once. I want to see you make
good. I am responsible for you. Don't try to win on your speed. Ease
up. Save yourself. Use your head. You go at things too hard."
Here was friendship indeed. Devlin was as loyal to the Culebra nine
as he was to the devouring monster of a steam-shovel, old Twenty-six,
but he felt that as "Walter's godfather by brevet" he was in honor
bound to stick to him through thick and thin. The advice was sound.
Already Walter had felt warning twinges in his arm. He became more
deliberate and wary, and Culebra's batting streak was checked. The
Cristobal partisans cheered him lustily, and that elderly gentleman
of large affairs, Major Glendinning, was guilty of pounding a perfect
stranger on the back. Then "Bucky" Harrison and his comrades rallied
and dismayed the Culebra pitcher by driving in three runs, which tied
the score.
The game seesawed for some time, while Walter Goodwin became more
effective and cool-headed. The fateful seventh inning arrived, and
the score still stood at 6-6. Then Cristobal gained a run on a timely
hit. A little later, Culebra filled the bases with two men out. Walter
hitched up his belt and stole a glance at the grandstand. Eleanor was
leaning forward, lips parted, hands clasped, "wishing hard enough
to win," as he had so often beheld her on the high-school field at
Wolverton. He turned to face the Culebra batter, a bronzed six-footer
of the steam-shovel brigade. Just then there came booming across the
field the voice of Naughton:
"Oh, you Goodwin! Remember how you handled the stuff on the dynamite
ship. This is easy."
This was the right word in due season. Walter realized that he had
stood the test of a bigger game than this, that he had proved himself
in the day's work. As methodically as if he were carrying cases of
dynamite across the deck, he turned and sent the ball breaking across
the corner of the plate. The Culebra giant swung at it as if he
expected to drive a home-run into the Caribbean Sea. "One strike,"
called the umpire. The next ball floated lazily and so deceived the
batter that he made no attempt to hit it. A third ball was batted high
in air to fall into the waiting paws of "Bucky" Harrison.
Walter had pitched himself out of the tightest corner of the game
against the most formidable team of the Isthmian League. The game was
won, for during the last two innings neither side was able to score.
Walter's friends gathered around him as he pressed through the crowd to
join his family in the grandstand. Naughton marched at one elbow, Jack
Devlin at the other. Mr. Horatio Goodwin was earnestly shaking hands
with his wife, nor did he foresee that henceforth he was to be known
on the Isthmus, not by his own very respectable name and station, but
as "the father of the kid pitcher." Eleanor was confiding to Fernandez
Garcia Alfaro:
"He is the most wonderful brother that ever was. I wish I could show
you the bust that I made of modelling-clay. The firmly moulded chin was
prophetic. I can't understand how they managed to dig so much of the
Panama Canal without him."
Alfaro was as delighted over all the good fortune which had come to the
Goodwin family as if it had happened to himself.
"I shall go to Washington and be a diplomat with a heart full of the
greatest gladness," he shouted to Walter. "_Viva_ everybody!"
Jack Devlin approached rather sheepishly and eyed Mr. Goodwin uneasily
as he confessed:
"About that money-order I sneaked to you with the best of intentions.
It made you so much worry and false alarm about the boy that I ought to
be kicked. Here is where I apologize."
"It was the most brilliant inspiration you ever had," cheerfully
replied the father of Walter.
"Your generous impulse was one of the causes that brought us to the
Isthmus to live," added Mrs. Goodwin. "You had something to do with
reuniting the family. We feel under great obligations to you."
"Everything has ended so happily!" came from the radiant Eleanor. "Life
is uninteresting unless there are a few complications to look back on
as one grows older."
In the evening Jack Devlin called at the cottage under the palms at
Cristobal, beside the white beach and the flashing sea. He wished
to pay his formal respects to the Goodwin family, believing himself
largely responsible for their migration.
"There have been times when that lad of yours wished he had never set
eyes on me," he said to Mr. Goodwin, "but I reckon I'm forgiven. He had
a good berth in the commissary, but I am hoping he will want to tackle
a grown man's job after a while. If you want to finish his schooling I
will say no more, but there is no all-round education in the world like
holding down a job on the Panama Canal."
"Walter informs me that he wishes to become a mechanical engineer,"
replied Mr. Goodwin. "My parental authority has been rather shaky ever
since my son recommended me to Major Glendinning. It will be some time
before I dare to assert my rights as the head of the family."
"Father is joking," exclaimed Walter. "My family responsibilities did
give me some worry, but they are off my hands."
"Then with your father's permission, you will begin your real education
with a fireman's shovel, feeding coal into old Twenty-six," said
Devlin. "It is not an easy school, but I think you can stand up to it
by next summer."
"It sounds like a great place for a husky young fellow," blithely
quoted Walter, and Devlin indulged in a reminiscent grin.
"I think I told you something like that once upon a time," said he.
"You spoke words of wisdom," was Walter's emphatic verdict. "I am sure
that father and mother will agree that your advice was gilt-edged. I
am not looking for easy work. I want to help dig the Panama Canal. It
will be something to feel proud of all my life. And before the Culebra
Cut is finished and the big ships go sailing through, I intend to be a
full-fledged steam-shovel man."
THE END
BOOKS BY RALPH D. PAINE
_The Dragon and the Cross_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.25
A lively story of how the son of an American missionary in China taught
some Chinese boys foot-ball and how the knowledge helped in one of the
native risings against the foreigners. A thrilling tale of fighting,
travel, and adventure.
_The Wrecking Master_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.25
"Will be read with pleasure by the many boys to whom the sea speaks
with an inviting voice."--_New York Herald._
"It's always good to read the story of a lad who makes his way and
earns the love of fellow beings by his manliness. And when the story is
told with spirit and deals with life upon the sea one thinks that it's
the best sort of a book for boys--yes, and young men."--_Chicago Inter
Ocean._
_A Cadet of the Black Star Line_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.25
"Mr. Paine's narrative of the experiences of a cadet on one of the big
ocean liners moves along with splendid spirit."
--_Philadelphia Press._
"A stirring tale of sea life, the breezes of the ocean blowing through
every chapter.... Clean, wholesome reading."
--_New York Observer._
_COLLEGE SERIES_
"In his stories of sport, Ralph Paine accomplishes considerable in the
right direction. He shows the reader the sport itself, and not only
the final-moment peep at it. He preaches subtly, too, for cleanness in
athletics, and I doubt not that his books have done a great deal toward
imbuing young men with a proper conception of the honest red-blood
world of muscle."--W. W. AULICK in _The Bookman_.
_Campus Days_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
Ralph Paine writes of college life and adventure with a knowledge,
humor, and genial liveliness that bring foot-ball games, classrooms,
campus, and undergraduates vividly before us. In this new book he tells
of grinds and sports, of athletes and loafers, of their troubles, their
triumphs, their sentimental adventures and hare-brained escapades.
_The Stroke Oar_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
"A wholesome, vigorous story."--_Chicago Tribune._
"A jolly, rollicking, bully narration."--_Boston Globe._
"Good, clean, and wholesome, filled with the atmosphere of athletic and
out-of-door living and thinking."
--_Richmond Times-Dispatch._
"The hero is a first-rate story and his mistakes and triumphs make a
first-rate story."--_Boston Transcript._
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, NEW YORK
_Sandy Sawyer, Sophomore_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
"There is no little fun and humor in the book, and Sandy with his push
and enterprise is a most likable young fellow."
--_Springfield Republican._
"'Sandy Sawyer, Sophomore,' is a clean, healthy book, the kind that
makes you as an adult wish you could be young again for the keener
pleasure the book would give you; but even the deadened sensibilities,
when school days are becoming a dim recollection, cannot lessen
your appreciation of how a boy would enjoy this book.... The author
preaches cleanness and fairness in classroom and on athletic
field."--_Cincinnati Times-Star._
_The Fugitive Freshman_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
"A mysterious disappearance, a wreck, the real thing in a game of
baseball are but a few of the excitements the book contains, which are
presented as only Mr. Paine can present them."
--_Philadelphia Ledger._
"Wherever he goes he takes with him the college atmosphere, and while
away engages in many entertaining adventures."
--_Boston Globe._
"Ralph D. Paine has never told a better story for boys than in 'The
Fugitive Freshman.' His young hero disappears from college because he
fears his father's wrath over the debts he has piled up and has all
kinds of adventures. It is an excellent book because the author is
never sensational. He points good morals without any preaching."--_San
Francisco Chronicle._
_The Head Coach_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
"The book is so compact of healthy young manliness and depicts so many
sound-hearted characters in so winning a way that it deserves unusual
success."--_Chicago Inter Ocean._
"How the coach won out is a tale of plenty of incident and excitement
to suit any foot-ball enthusiast, which is saying a good deal. And, it
may be added, the romance is not all of the gridiron."--_Minneapolis
Journal._
"A manly story related in straightforward fashion."
--Philadelphia Press.
_College Years_
Illustrated, 12mo. $1.50
"Extremely life-like and accurate pictures of the campus.... Every boy
who intends to go to college will want to read these stories."--_Yale
Alumni Weekly._
"Breezy, spirited, vigorous ... reflects the best part of college life
as the student himself sees it."--_Chicago Record-Herald._
"Those who like rollicking fun and the stirring affairs of college
athletics will enjoy thoroughly Mr. Paine's yarns. They are pervaded
with the college atmosphere."--_Springfield Republican._
"Like the other books for which this author is known, 'College Years'
is of a spirited and wholesome character that is sure to win for it
many readers."--_Chicago Evening Post._
"Each story deals satisfactorily with its own field of effort The
author's enthusiasm for athletics and Yale is catching."
--_New York Sun._