_Two Missing Men_
The disappearance of Silent Swanson and Ben Kennedy brought
consternation to the ranks of the Bears, consternation that increased
as the hour for starting the first game of the series against the
Jackrabbits drew near. McCarthy, returning to the rooms after his
surprising interview with Helen Baldwin, was determined to tell his
chum all that had taken place and to explain as well as was possible
the position in which he found himself. He planned to urge Swanson to
go with him to Clancy, and for that reason he postponed taking the
manager into his confidence.
He hastened downstairs to breakfast, half expecting to find his chum
waiting for him in the dining room with an account of the night's
events. He finished breakfast in a troubled state of mind, and, after
wandering around the lobby for nearly an hour in the vain hope that
Swanson would appear, he encountered Noisy Norton, who appeared
disturbed and distressed.
"Say," said Norton, "seen Kennedy?"
"No--seen Swanson?"
"They went out together," said Norton, with an unusual burst of
conversation.
"Didn't Kennedy come home either?" asked McCarthy in fresh alarm.
"No."
They sat silent for some time, then Noisy said:
"Something wrong."
"What'll we do?" asked McCarthy anxiously.
"Tell Clancy," said Norton, with an effort.
They ascended the elevator together and rapped at Clancy's door.
"Mr. Clancy," said McCarthy, when the manager had bade them enter, "I
ought to have come to you before. Swanson and Kennedy are missing.
They didn't come in last night--and we're worried."
"Where were they?" demanded the manager quickly.
"I was going with Swanson on an errand last night," said McCarthy. "We
were working on that matter that caused trouble the other day. Then I
had a telephone call and went to see a--a friend of mine. Swanson said
he'd take Kennedy with him. They left the hotel together, Norton tells
me, and they haven't come home."
"Either of them drinking?" asked Clancy sharply.
"Beer--sometimes--not often," said Norton.
"Swanson hasn't been drinking at all," declared McCarthy. "Neither of
them would go off on a tear at this stage of the game."
"You're right, Kohinoor," said Clancy worriedly. "It's something else.
They'll show up, all right. Thank you for telling me, boys, and don't
say anything about it."
In spite of their silence, however, the rumor that the star catcher and
the shortstop were missing spread through the team. By noon the
players were openly discussing the whereabouts of the two players.
Clancy showed his anxiety.
"Can't you tell me where they were going, Kohinoor?" he asked. "I
don't want to press you to reveal anything you don't want to, but I'm
afraid those boys are in trouble."
"I haven't any idea where they were going," replied McCarthy. "I know
that they were watching a certain fellow, and that a gambler named
Edwards was mixed up in it."
"You've told me plenty," said the manager in low tones. "I have
suspected it all along. I'm afraid they're run afoul of Edwards and
that he has managed to get them into trouble."
"If he has he has his nerve," said McCarthy. "Look over there. He
just came in with a party of friends. I know the big man."
"Who is he?" inquired the manager, watching the party just entering one
of the field boxes.
"That's Barney Baldwin, the political boss," explained McCarthy.
"Is he in this thing, too?" inquired Clancy, starting with surprise.
"Yes, at least I think so. You see, I know his niece. It was at his
house I went to call last night. I discovered that he ordered his
niece to call me and had her try to persuade me to quit the team right
away."
"Look here, Kohinoor," said the manager, drawing him aside so the other
players could not hear, "I'm sorry you didn't tell me this before. It
looks worse and worse all the time. He wanted you to quit--and now two
of my men disappear. You'll have to play short to-day, and we'll send
Pardridge to third. Get in there and hustle."
Smith, the big spitball pitcher of the Bears, who had been held in
reserve, was chosen to pitch, and for three innings the teams fought
for the opening without a real chance to score. The cunning of Clancy
was shown in his choice of the big pitcher, whose speed and spitball
kept the Jackrabbit batters hitting toward right field or sending slow,
easy bounders down toward the pitcher. He had chosen Smith in order to
protect the weakened third base side of the infield, and his plan
worked well until the fourth inning, when Egbert, one of the speediest
of the Jackrabbit sprinters, hit a spitball on top and sent a slow,
weak roller toward third base. Pardridge made a desperate effort to
field the ball, but fell short, and the Jackrabbits discovered the weak
place in the defense. Two bunts rolled down the third-base line in
succession, and, although Pardridge, playing close in a desperate
effort to stop that style of attack, managed to throw out the second
bunter, runners were on second and third with but one out when
"Buckthorne" Black smashed a long hit over center for three bases and
scored an instant later on a sharp, slashing hit through Noisy Norton.
The three runs seemed to spell the doom of the Bears, and they came in
from the field angry, hot and desperate. The roar of the crowd grew
stronger when the score board showed the Panthers were winning their
game--5 to 1--from the Blues.
McCarthy was first at bat in that inning. As he selected his bat he
glanced toward the stand and grew hot with rage at seeing Baldwin
laughing until red in the face and slapping Ed Edwards on the back.
The gambler's usually stony face wore a smile of relief. McCarthy
walked to the plate, pushed the first ball pitched down the third-base
line and outsprinted the ball to first. Norton strove to bring him
home, but his long-line drive went straight to the left fielder, and
when Holleran struck out it seemed as if the chance to score was lost
for that inning. McCarthy stood still, a few feet off first base, and,
as Randall wound up to pitch, he started at top speed for second base.
Jackson, catching for the Jackrabbits, saw him, grabbed the ball and
leaped into position to throw. Like a flash McCarthy stopped and
danced a step or two back toward first base, as if daring the catcher
to throw the ball. Jackson pretended to throw to first, and, as
McCarthy edged a step closer the base the catcher saw there was no
chance to catch him, and slowly relaxing from throwing position, he
took a step forward and started to toss the ball back to his pitcher.
In that instant McCarthy acted. He leaped forward, and, before Jackson
could recover and spring back into throwing position, the fleet Bear
was nearing second base, making a beautifully executed delayed steal.
Jackson threw, although it was too late. The ball, hurled over
hastily, broke through the second baseman's hands and rolled twenty
feet toward center field. McCarthy turned second at full speed and
raced for third, while Reilly tore after the ball, and, picking it up,
made a fast, low throw toward third. Again the ball escaped the
baseman, and McCarthy, without the loss of a stride, turned third base
and raced home, sliding under Jackson as he reached for the high-thrown
ball.
The game had settled down to a desperate series of attacks by the
Bears, and a stubborn defense on the part of the Jackrabbits. In the
sixth and again in the seventh the Bears forced the attack, but each
time they fell short of scoring, and the eighth inning came with the
score 3 to 1 against them. Lucas, who was catching in Kennedy's place,
opened that inning, and the Bears' hope arose when he, the weakest
hitter on the team, was hit by a pitched ball. Smith drove a hard
bounder toward first, but O'Meara knocked down the ball and reached the
base in time to retire the big, lumbering pitcher, letting Lucas reach
second. Jacobsen struck out, and McCarthy, gritting his teeth, came to
bat. One strike and one ball had been called when, looking toward the
bench for a signal from Clancy, he saw a sight that made his heart
jump. In that fleeting glance he had seen Swanson, in uniform, coming
onto the bench through the little doorway under the stands.
Swanson's eye was black and a strip of plaster extended from under his
cap onto his forehead. His face was swollen and discolored and a
bandage covered his head, showing under his cap.
If he only could get on first base, McCarthy told himself, there was
hope, and, as the ball sped toward him he poked out his bat, dropped
another bunt toward third base, and, by a terrific burst of speed he
beat it to first base, sending Lucas to third.
"Swanson batting for Holleran. Swanson will play shortstop, McCarthy
third base, Pardridge in left field."
McCarthy had determined to steal second base, but the chance never
presented. The first ball that came whizzing toward the plate Swanson
hit. It went like a rocket far out to left center field. Two speedy
outfielders glanced at the flying ball, then turned and sprinted for
the outer barriers. The ball soared on and on, and with a crash struck
against the sign over the left field seats and fell back into the
throng in the bleachers, and while the crowd cheered and groaned three
Bears trotted around the bases to the plate.
Swanson, running slowly and painfully, crossed the plate, with the
score that put the Bears in the lead. He did not stop. Straight
toward the box where Edwards and Baldwin sat, he went. His face was
terrible. They saw him coming, and Baldwin, apologetic with fear, half
arose, as if to cry for help. The gambler, white but still keeping his
nerve, shrank back a trifle, but held his seat. Swanson walked
straight to them. For an instant he towered over them threateningly,
then he said:
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, I hope you're glad to see me."