TOMMY GOES FISHING
“That’s the way to hit ’em out!”
“Come on now, Will; make a home run!”
“Say, he hit that good and hard!”
These were some of the cries that greeted Will Warnton’s first strike
at the ball which Tommy had pitched him, and hit it Will did, sending
the horsehide away out toward center field.
“Go after it!” shouted Tommy. “Don’t let him get to second base!”
Frank Bonder, who was nearest to the ball, ran to get under it. Down
it came, right in his fingers.
“He’s out!”
“He won’t make a run!”
“That’s the way to catch ’em!”
It seemed as if every boy on the grounds was yelling at once. No
wonder poor Frank got confused and dropped the ball! For that is
exactly what he did, letting it slip through his fingers.
There was a groan of despair from Tommy and his chums, for Will was
safe on second base.
“Never mind,” consoled the young captain of the Riverdale Roarers.
“They won’t get any more hits, and we’ll get him out soon.”
“Oh, don’t be too sure of that,” came from the runner on second,
as he danced about, trying to make Herbert Kress, who was second
baseman, get nervous. “I’m going to make the run pretty soon.”
“I guess I didn’t curve that ball very much,” thought Tommy, as he
got ready for the next hitter. As soon as he threw the ball, Will,
on second base, started for third. At once there was more shouting
and confusion, boys jumping up and down and yelling at the top of
their voices. It was very clear that the visiting team had had more
experience than had Tommy’s nine.
Will got to third, but he did not get home right away, as the boy
at the bat was put out on a foul, which the catcher grabbed just in
time. Then the next lad up hit a ball that went right between the
legs of fat Joie Grubb, who was shortstop. When the inning was over
the visitors had two runs.
“But we’ll win!” declared Tommy to his boys, confidently.
It did not look so at first, for when three innings had been played
the score stood four runs to six in favor of the Ramblers.
Then Tommy and his chums braced up, and though they had never before
played together in a regular game, though they had no uniforms, and
not a very good outfit, they played so well that they tied the score.
“But we’ve got to _win_!” cried Tommy, as it came time for his boys
to go out in the field. “We’ve got to _win_!”
“I hope we do,” said Sammie Sandlass. “But their pitcher throws big
curves.”
“I’ve got to have more practice at that,” admitted Tommy. “They’re a
stronger team than we are, but I think we can win.”
It came to the ending of the ninth inning. The score had increased
until it was now ten runs to eleven in favor of the Ramblers. It was
the turn of the Riverdale Roarers to bat for the last time. If they
could get two runs they would win. Could they do it?
“We’re just going to!” exclaimed Tommy. “I bat right after you do,
Teddy. You try and knock a three-bagger, and I’ll try to make a home
run, and that will win us the game.”
“Of course I’ll try,” spoke Teddy, “but you know it isn’t so easy to
make runs as you’d think.”
“Of course I know, but do it! Do it!”
“Yes, you’re the boy who does things!” laughed Teddy. “Well, here I
go,” he added, as he walked up to home plate.
“One strike!” shouted the umpire, though Teddy had not moved his bat.
“Say, I didn’t strike at that,” objected the batter.
“I know you didn’t, but you had ought to,” replied the umpire. “It
was right over the plate.”
“Of course it was,” declared the rival pitcher. “I can put ’em just
where I want to.”
“Then put one here!” cried Teddy, holding out his bat about level
with his belt, “and I’ll knock it over the barn!”
“I’d like to see you do it!” retorted the pitcher.
Well, Teddy did not exactly knock the ball over the barn, but he
did send it quite a distance, and he managed to get to third base,
because the right fielder muffed the ball.
“Now for a home run, and we win the game!” cried Tommy.
“You never can,” spoke Joie Grubb, despairingly.
There were two strikes called on Tommy, almost before he knew it, and
he shut his teeth firmly together and made up his mind that he would
hit the next ball. And he did.
[Illustration: _But He Had to Slide Through the Dust and Grass to
Make It._]
Away it sailed, right over the head of the center fielder, for
Tommy was a sturdy lad, and he put all his strength into that one
strike.
“Go on! Go on!”
“A home run!”
“Leg it, Tommy! Leg it!”
“We’ll win the game!”
Once again everybody was shouting. Teddy had started from third base
toward home. Tommy had rounded first and was going for second as fast
as he could.
He got to third as the boy who had raced after the ball threw it in.
“I’ve got to get there ahead of that ball!” thought our hero.
And he did. But he had to slide through the dust and grass to make
it, and he tore a hole in his trousers. But he did not mind that, for
he had on an old suit, and he thought the winning of the game would
more than make up for the ripped garment.
“We win! We win!” cried the Riverdale Roarers.
“Of course we win!” yelled Teddy. “It takes Tommy Tiptop to do
things!”
There was a moment of silence on the part of the visiting nine. It
had happened so suddenly that they could not realize it. They had
been sure of victory, and at the last moment their rivals had won.
They did not understand it.
“That was a great run, Tommy!” exclaimed Billie Ruggler.
“Well, I knew I just _had_ to make it!” panted Tommy.
Then the losers cheered the winners and the winners gave a cheer for
the losers, and the first real game was over.
“But we’ll play you another,” said the captain of the visitors. He
did not like to lose.
“Of course,” agreed Tommy. “Next time we may have suits.”
“I’d rather win the game than have uniforms,” went on the captain of
the losing side. “But next time _we_ will win.”
Tommy laughed as his chums gathered around him, and then the two
teams left the field. As our hero walked out of the lane to the
village street he saw his sister. A girl was with her.
“Oh, Tommy, did you win?” asked Nellie.
“Sure we did,” he answered. “But it was hard work. I made a home run.”
“Oh, that was fine!” exclaimed Nellie’s friend, and then, for the
first time, Tommy noticed that she was the girl he had saved from the
bull.
“Oh, how are you?” he asked. “You’re Joie’s sister, aren’t you? Joie
played fine to-day.”
“He’s very fat to play ball,” remarked Sallie. “Mamma says she
doesn’t see how he does it.”
“Oh, he isn’t so fat as he was,” spoke Tommy. “He got thin helping
build the back-stop, I guess.”
The back-stop had been a great help to the lads in playing ball,
for the catchers were not expert enough to stop all the balls the
pitchers delivered, and the structure of posts and boards, which Old
Johnny Green had helped build, came in very nicely. It stopped the
missed balls from rolling too far away. The old man was on hand to
see the game, and he clapped loudly every time Tommy and his friends
did well.
Tommy, with his sister and Sallie and some other companions, walked
toward home, talking about the great game. Tommy fairly burst into
the house, actually falling up the steps in his eagerness, crying
out:
“We won, ma! We won! We beat the other team! Now, who says we can’t
play ball?”
“Indeed, did you win, dear? I’m very glad!” replied his mother, as
she stroked his damp hair with her hand. “Oh, but how warm you are,
Tommy!”
“Yes, it was hot. But now I’ve got to write a letter to see about a
game for next Saturday.”
Tommy could not arrange for a regular contest during the next week,
but he managed to have a game between his own team and a scrub
one from boys about town, for there was quite a baseball fever in
Riverdale since Tommy’s nine had won. Every boy who could manage it,
had a glove, a ball and a bat, and practiced at odd times in vacant
lots or on the new diamond.
Tommy’s nine won their second game, but they did not take much credit
for that, as the scrub team they played had no regular organization.
“But it is good practice for us,” remarked Tommy, and the others
agreed with him.
At odd times they worked on the diamond, getting rid of the stones,
clearing away the grass from the home plate and along the base lines.
Several of the other boys did odd bits of work about town and earned
money so that they were able to buy bagbases, some new balls and
occasionally a new bat. The catcher had a second-hand mask.
But they could not quite manage the uniforms. Some of the boys did
coax their parents to buy them ball suits, but the nine, as a whole,
did not have them, and there were hardly any two alike. Tommy got
one, with the letters “R. R.” in red on his shirt, and very proud he
was, too. Sometimes, when some boy could not play, he would loan his
suit to a friend.
As the days of summer went on, Tommy’s nine played many games, losing
some and winning more. The fathers, and, in some cases, the mothers
of the players, came to see a game occasionally, and Mr. Fillmore,
the florist, and his friend, Mr. Wentworth, the hardware man, paid
several visits to the new diamond.
It was a warm summer’s day, and Tommy, who had been at the head of
his class in school for seven times in succession, was, as a reward
of merit, allowed to come out at two o’clock on Friday. There were
none of his close friends who had the same honor, so Tommy did not
have anyone to chum with, and, though he was glad to be out of
school, he hardly knew what to do with himself.
“I guess I’ll go fishing,” he decided, as he hurried toward home.
Up in his room he had a good pole, lines, hooks and all things
needful. It was the work of only a few minutes to dig some worms in
the garden, catch a grasshopper or two and start for the creek which
flowed about half a mile from the house.
“Bring home enough for supper,” called his mother after her boy, as
Tommy strolled off, with his pole over his shoulder. “Catch some nice
big ones, Tommy, but don’t fall in!”
“I won’t,” he promised, and then he hurried on, whistling a merry
tune, and wondering whether his nine would win the baseball game that
was to be played the following day.
“I wonder if the fellows in Millton have a nine yet,” he said to
himself. “I must write a card to some of the boys, tell them about
our nine, and see if they can play us. I think that would be fun.”