WINNING HIS GAME
By Ralph Henry Barbour
PURPLE PENNANT SERIES
The Lucky Seventh
The Secret Play
The Purple Pennant
YARDLEY HALL SERIES
Forward Pass
Double Play
Winning His Y
For Yardley
Around the End
Change Signals
HILTON SERIES
The Half-back
For the Honor of the School
Captain of the Crew
ERSKINE SERIES
Behind the Line
Weatherby’s Inning
On Your Mark
THE “BIG FOUR” SERIES
Four in Camp
Four Afoot
Four Afloat
THE GRAFTON SERIES
Rivals for the Team
Winning His Game
BOOKS NOT IN SERIES
The Brother of a Hero
Finkler’s Field
Danforth Plays the Game
Benton’s Venture
The Junior Trophy
The New Boy at Hilltop
The Spirit of the School
The Arrival of Jimpson
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, Publishers, New York
[Illustration: “The ball, curving inward, met his bat fairly and
screeched off into short center”]
WINNING
HIS GAME
BY
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
AUTHOR OF “RIVALS FOR THE TEAM,” “THE PURPLE PENNANT,” ETC.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED BY
WALT LOUDERBACK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK LONDON
1917
Copyright, 1917, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. DUD WONDERS 1
II. THE ENTERING WEDGE 13
III. 29 LOTHROP 25
IV. A CHANCE MEETING 36
V. DUD LOSES HIS TEMPER 49
VI. FIRST PRACTICE 59
VII. BEN MYATT ADVISES 69
VIII. A WILD PITCH 81
IX. JIMMY TAKES CHARGE 93
X. THE CHALLENGE 104
XI. WITH THE SCRUBS 118
XII. ON THE RIVER 130
XIII. CONFESSION 138
XIV. MAROONED! 148
XV. DUD SERVES THEM UP 160
XVI. THE TRACK MEET 172
XVII. BASEBALL, TENNIS AND OYSTERS 184
XVIII. DUD GOES TO THE RESCUE 192
XIX. BACK TO THE BENCH 207
XX. JIMMY ENCOURAGES 219
XXI. ON THE MOUND 230
XXII. DUD COMES BACK 240
XXIII. BEN TELLS A SECRET 253
XXIV. THE FIRST GAME 264
XXV. LEFT BEHIND 274
XXVI. THE BORROWED HAND-CAR 286
XXVII. WINNING HIS GAME 301
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
“The ball, curving inward, met his bat fairly and screeched
off into short center” _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
“‘You’re a sneaky little bounder, that’s what you are!’” 38
“‘The canoes have gone!’” 144
“Jimmy ... was rolling over on the platform and Dud ...
with him” 282
WINNING HIS GAME
CHAPTER I
DUD WONDERS
Jimmy Logan stood his skis in the corner behind the door and, tramping
heavily to get the clinging snow from his shoes, climbed the first
flight in Trow Hall slowly and then dragged wearied feet down the
corridor to Number 19. Once inside the room, he said, “Hello,” shied
his cap onto his bed and sank exhaustedly in the nearest chair,
stretching his legs across the rug and slumping down until the wet
collar of his mackinaw came in contact with his ears. Whereupon he
muttered, “Ugh!” and sat up another inch or two.
Across the room, one foot on the floor and the other doubled up
beneath him on the windowseat, was Jimmy’s roommate. His response to
the greeting had been brief and delivered in a preoccupied voice, for
Dudley Baker had a book open before him on the cushion and held a
stained and battered baseball in his right hand. His attention was
divided between book and ball and had no room for Jimmy. The latter’s
gaze presently came away from his shoes, which were trickling water to
the rug, and fixed itself on Dudley. He had to sit up still higher in
the chair to get an uninterrupted view of his chum, which proceeding
elicited a protesting groan from him, and after he had attained it he
instantly decided that it was not worth while and deeply regretted the
exertion it had caused him. He promptly descended again on his spine,
crossed his feet and sighed luxuriously.
The dollar clock on Dudley’s chiffonier ticked briskly and loudly in
the ensuing silence. Outside the windows tiny flakes of snow were
falling. The shadows deepened in the room. In the corridor deliberate
footsteps sounded and suddenly the transom over the door showed yellow
and an oblong of light appeared on the ceiling. Mr. Crump, the school
janitor, was lighting the dormitories. Jimmy wished that his shoes were
off, and his mackinaw, and the woolen socks, but as yet he wasn’t equal
to the task. When Mr. Crump’s footsteps had died away on the stairs
Jimmy broke the silence.
“What’re you doing?” he asked uninterestedly. There was, however, no
reply from the window-seat, possibly because Jimmy’s tones had been too
faint to reach there. After a moment Jimmy turned his head and stared
across a pile of books on the study table at the three or four inches
of Dudley’s head that were visible. Then:
“_Dud!_” he bawled resentfully.
“Huh?”
“What are you doing, I asked you.”
“Oh, me? Oh, just trying to dope out some of this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Stuff about pitching. How to hold the ball, you know.”
“Oh!” Jimmy subsided again and another period of silence followed. Then:
“You don’t expect to play baseball for a while, do you?” he asked
lazily. “You’d better study how to throw a snowball!” He chuckled
faintly at his joke.
“It isn’t so long now,” responded Dud soberly. “They’re going to call
candidates the twenty-first.”
“Gym work,” grunted the other. “Take my advice and keep away from it.
Don’t go out for the team until it gets out of doors. Are you still
thinking of trying for the school?”
“Of course.”
Jimmy grunted. “You’ll have a fine show, I don’t think! Better try for
the second, Dud.”
“I don’t expect to make it, but it’s good practice, and maybe next
year――――”
“You’ll stand more chance with the second, and have a lot more fun.
The second’s going to have a regular schedule this year; five or six
games, maybe; going away for some of them, too.”
“If I don’t make the first, and I suppose I won’t, of course, I’ll try
for the second,” said Dud. “I asked Murtha this morning if he thought
it would be all right to try for the first, and he said――――”
“Guy Murtha said, ‘Yes, indeed, Baker, we want all the candidates we
can get!’ That’s what they always tell you, and then, when you get
out there, they inform you gently but firmly that you won’t do, and
hadn’t you better stay with your class team this year and try again
next? What’s the use? I like to play ball, Dud, but you don’t catch me
putting in a month’s grind in the cage and then getting the G. B. as
soon as we get outdoors. Me for the second――and safety.”
“You’re lazy,” replied Dud, shutting his book and stowing the ball back
of the pillows. “You could make the first this spring if you’d try for
it. You ought to, too.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe so. But I’d rather have a sure place on the
second, thanks. Gee, but I’m tired!”
“Skiing?”
“Yes; Pete Gordon and Kelly and Gus and I. We climbed up to the
Observatory and then hiked half-way over to the Falls. It was piles of
fun going down the mountain. Gus Weston took a header and turned over
about forty-eleven times and then went into a snow bank head-first up
to his waist. But we tried to do too much. My legs feel as if they’d
never stop aching! What have you been doing? Been in here all the
afternoon? But, of course, you have. I forgot about your tooth. How is
it? Any better?”
“Yes. I guess I caught a little cold in it. I wish that dentist
chap would yank it out instead of practicing on it!” Dud turned the
lights on and perched himself across a chair at the opposite side of
the table, his arms on the back, and observed Jimmy in a thoughtful
fashion. Jimmy grunted.
“Shoot,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I――I’ve been wondering, Jimmy.”
“Oh, gee!” Jimmy groaned deeply. “At it again, eh? Well, what is
it this time, Dud? The other day you were worrying yourself thin
because you were afraid you were costing your folks too much money, or
something.”
Dud smiled. “Not exactly worrying,” he replied. “Just――just wondering.”
“There isn’t much difference, the way you do it. If I――――”
“Not so much about how much I was costing them as whether they’re going
to get their money’s worth, Jimmy. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m
really doing any good here. Now you look at it this way――――”
“I won’t! I refuse! Besides, that’s an old one. What’s your latest
worry?”
“It isn’t a worry――exactly. I was only thinking that――――” He paused.
Then: “Oh, I guess it isn’t anything, after all. Say, you’d better get
out of those wet things, Jimmy.”
“I’m going to just as soon as I have strength to move. But I want to
hear your new――er――problem, Dud. Come across. ’Fess up to your Uncle
Jimmy.”
Dud hesitated, smiling a bit embarrassedly. He was a good-looking
chap of fifteen, with clean-cut features, a rather fair complexion
and very bright blue eyes. He was small-boned and slim, and, since
he had been doing a lot of growing the past twelve months, he looked
a trifle “weedy.” In that respect he was a distinct contrast to his
roommate, for James Townsend Logan was a stocky lad, wide of shoulder
and broad of chest. Jimmy was sixteen, although only four months
divided the two boys in age. Jimmy’s features were nondescript, but
the result was pleasing. He wore his red-brown hair rather long――Dud
said it was because he was too lazy to have it cut oftener than once
every term――and had a short nose and a wide, humorous mouth and a very
square chin. He was a member of the upper middle class, while Dud was a
lower middler.
“I guess it’s sort of silly,” said Dud after a moment. “But I’ve been
wondering”――Jimmy groaned again――“why I don’t know more fellows, Jimmy,
why I don’t――don’t ‘mix’ better. I don’t believe I really care a whole
lot――――” He paused again. “Yes I do, too, though. I’d like to have
fellows like me, Jimmy, as they do you, and ask me to do things and go
places and――and all that. Of course, I know the trouble’s with me, all
right, but――but what is it?”
“Oh, piffle, Dud! Fellows _do_ like you.”
“Yes, about the way they like the steps in front of School Hall. That
is, they don’t exactly _like_ me; they just――just don’t _dislike_ me.
I guess I’d rather have them do that than not care a fig whether I’m
alive or dead. I suppose this sounds silly, but――――”
“Honest confession is good for the soul,” responded Jimmy lightly. “But
I think you’re wrong about it, Dud. Or, anyway――now look here――――”
“I suppose I’m just not cut out to be what you might call popular,”
interrupted Dud thoughtfully. “Well, but still――――”
“Shut up and let me talk! The trouble with you is that you don’t let
fellows find out whether they can like you or not. You don’t――don’t
‘mix’――do you see? If you’d get into things more――――”
“But that’s just it! How can I when I see that I’m not wanted?”
“That’s just imagination, Dud. You can’t expect fellows to fall all
over themselves and hug you! You’ve got to show ’em that you’re ready
to be friends. You’ve got to make the start yourself. What do you do
when someone says ‘Let’s do this or that’? You mutter something about
having to dig Latin or math and sneak off. Fellows naturally think you
don’t want to do the things they do. Now today, for instance――――”
“I couldn’t have gone, Jimmy, with this plaguey toothache!”
“Why, no, I guess you couldn’t. But, thunderation, Dud, if it isn’t
a toothache it’s something else. You’ve always got some perfectly
wonderful excuse for beating it about the time the fun begins. Not that
you missed much this afternoon, for you didn’t, barring a lot of tired
muscles, but you often do miss things. To be what you call a ‘mixer,’
Dud, you’ve got to ‘mix,’ and you don’t know the first thing about it.
Fellows like you, all right, what they see of you, but you don’t give
them a chance.”
Dud stared thoughtfully at the green shade before him. “Ye-yes, I
suppose that’s true, Jimmy. But I don’t like to stick around when
fellows are getting up things because I think that maybe they won’t
want me in on it and that if I’m there they’ll think they have to ask
me.”
“Huh! What if they do have to ask you? Let ’em! Then when they see that
you’re a regular feller they’ll ask you next time without having to.”
“But I wonder if I am.”
“Am what?” asked Jimmy ungrammatically.
“A ‘regular feller.’ Maybe I’m not. I wonder――――”
Jimmy threw up his hands in despair. “Oh, gee, he’s at it again!
Dud, what you want to do is stop wondering. You’re the finest little
wonderer that ever came down the pike, all right, but you spend so much
time at it that you don’t get anywhere. Now, you take my advice, old
chap, and stop wondering whether fellows like you or don’t like you.
Just get out and butt in a little. When you see a crowd walk right into
the middle of it and find out whether it’s a fight or a frolic. And,
whatever it is, take a hand. Now there’s some mighty good advice, Dud,
take it from me. I didn’t know I had it in me! And let me tell you
another thing, kid. If you expect to have a show for the first team you
want to crawl out of your shell and rub shoulders with fellows. Get
hunky with the first team crowd, do you see? Be――be more of a――well,
more of a regular feller, like I said before. Don’t try too hard to
be popular, though. Fellows get onto that and won’t stand for it.
Just――just be natural!”
“I guess I’m being natural,” answered Dud, with a smile, “and that
is where the trouble is. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year.
A lower middle fellow feels sort of fresh if he tries to mix in with
upper middlers.”
“Piffle! Lots of your class are thick as thieves with upper middle
chaps. Look at young Whatshisname――Stiles. He’s always traveling with
upper middlers――Ordway and Blake and that bunch.”
“Ned Stiles has more cheek than I have. Besides, I don’t think fellows
like him particularly, Jimmy. He sort of toadies, doesn’t he?”
“He’s a perfect ass, if you ask me. But they seem to stand for him.”
“Well, but I don’t want to be ‘stood for’; I want fellows to――to want
me.”
“All right. Give ’em a chance then. You’re all right, Dud, only
you’re shy. That’s what’s the matter with you, old chap, you’re just
plain shy! Never thought of it before. Look here, now, I’ll tell you
what you do. You forget all about your dear little self and get over
being――being――gee, what’s the word I want? Being self-conscious! That’s
it! That’s your trouble, self-consciousness.” Jimmy beamed approval at
himself. “Best way to do it is to――to do it! Tell you what, we’ll make
a start tonight, eh? Let’s go out and visit someone. Who do you know
that you’d like to know better?”
“I’d like to know Hugh Ordway, for one,” said Dud hesitatingly. “But I
guess he wouldn’t care about knowing me, and so――――”
“Stow it! That’s just what you mustn’t do, do you see? You mustn’t
‘wonder’ whether a fellow wants to know you or not. You just take
it for granted that he does. Say to yourself, ‘I’m a good feller, a
regular feller. I’m as good as you are. Of course you want to know me.
Why not?’ See the idea?”
Dud nodded doubtfully. “Still, Hugh Ordway’s a bit――――”
“A bit what?” demanded Jimmy impatiently.
“I mean he’s awfully popular and has piles of friends and he wouldn’t
be likely to――to want to know me.”
“Oh, piffle! Ordway’s just like any of us――except that he happens to be
English and have a Lord or a Duke or something for a father. I don’t
know him very well myself, but that’s just because he trains with the
football crowd――Blake and Winslow and that bunch. But I know him plenty
well enough to visit, and that’s just what we’ll do this evening, Dud.”
“Maybe we’d better leave it for some other night,” replied Dud
uneasily. “I’ve got a lot of lessons tonight and――――”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Jimmy mirthlessly. “Where have I heard that before?”
He pulled himself from his chair with a groan and pointed a stern
finger at his chum. “You’ll start right in with me this very evening,
Dud, and be a regular feller! And no more punk excuses, either! I’m
going to take you in hand, son, and when I get through with you you
won’t know yourself. Here, _stop that_!”
“What?” asked Dud startledly.
“You know what! You were beginning to wonder! I saw you! No more of
that, understand? The first time I catch you wondering I’ll――I’ll take
my belt to you!”