BASEBALL, TENNIS AND OYSTERS
There was yet nearly three-quarters of an hour before supper time and
Dud, still elated and excited over the track victory, turned his steps
to River Street and, skirting the school grounds, swung west and made
for the station. The ball team, unless it missed its connection at the
Junction, would be in at a quarter to six. Dud was not alone in his
journey to the station, for the carriages bearing the Mount Morris
athletes passed him half-way along the shaded village road and several
boys, fortunate youths living nearby who had procured leave of absence
over Sunday, were trailing along, suit-cases in hand. Dud witnessed
the departure of the Mount Morris track team and the fellows off for
home and then, seated on a baggage-truck, watched the shadows creep
down the hillside across the tracks and thought of a great many things.
He speculated on what had happened at Rotan to result in Grafton’s
defeat, wondered whether by any stroke of fortune the Scarlet-and-Gray
had redeemed herself in the later innings and then tried to imagine
himself in the box for Grafton, facing those doughty Rotan freshies
and mowing them down one-two-three! He couldn’t quite visualize the
scene, however, and gave up with a sigh. Then he wondered how long it
would be before Mr. Sargent would let him start a game, and what would
happen when he did! And at that instant there was a whistle far down
the track, the few loiterers came to life along the platform and the
baggage man requisitioned his truck.
Jimmie was one of the first off the train and was all for returning
to school in the barge until Dud reminded him that he had walked all
the way over to meet him and didn’t propose to pay any fifteen cents
to ride back. Whereupon Jimmie good-naturedly set out with his chum on
foot.
“Twelve to seven,” he answered in reply to Dud’s request for the final
figures. “What was the matter? Why, nothing much, except that we
couldn’t hit that pitcher of theirs and they slammed Myatt all over
the lot in the third. Why the dickens Pete didn’t yank him out I don’t
know. Maybe it’s just as well he didn’t, though. I guess they’d have
battered Leddy something brutal. Those dubs sure can hit the pill, son!”
“How did you get on?” asked Dud.
“Rotten, thanks! I muffed a peach of a fly and let two runs cross,
worse luck! It was in that awful third. The sun got square in my eyes
just at the last moment. I had the old thing sighted nicely until I
had to drop my hands to make the catch. Then it went plum through
’em. There were three on bases and so two of them scored. The other
one could have, too, if he’d had any sense, for it took me about ten
seconds to find the ball after I muffed it. But the fellow slowed up at
third and by that time it was too late.”
“Did you hit any?”
“I got one, and it was a corker. I’d have had two bases on it if Blake
hadn’t held me up at first, the chump! I wasn’t awfully strong with the
stick, Dud, but I got a base every time I went up!”
“You did? How, for pity’s sake?”
“Well, the first time I rolled one in front of base and the catcher
threw to second to get Ordway. He didn’t, though, for Hobo’s a regular
flash on the bases, and we were both safe. The next time I got pinked
in the arm, the next time I hit between short and third――some little
sizzler, that was, old scout!――and the last time I worked Mr. Pitcher
for a pass.”
“Gee, you’re a lucky chap,” said Dud enviously.
“Lucky? Nothing of the sort. Brains, son, brains! Besides, do you call
it lucky to have a long, easy fly go right through your fingers? Huh!
Luck didn’t do anything for little Jimmy today! Say, how’d the meet
come out? Heard we’d won it, but what was the score?”
They talked track meeting until the campus was reached and then Dud
returned to the subject of the ball game. “They tried Star Meyer in
center for a couple of innings; Parker got his leg spiked and Star
wasn’t so bad. Made a pretty catch of a long one that went nearly to
the fence and managed to beat out a bunt in the ninth. I suppose the
first thing I know I’ll have to down him as well as Boynton.”
Dud looked surprised. “Do you think you’ve got a show, Jimmy?” he
inquired.
“Why not?” asked the other, bristling. “Boynton’s not much better than
I am. He muffs ’em, too, now and then. Of course, he’s hitting better,
but I’ll wager he doesn’t get to first any oftener. But if they go and
lug Star into the business, why, that’s different. I can’t win out
against the whole school!”
“But you say they played Star in center. And you’re after right, aren’t
you?”
“I’m after anything I can get, son. A fellow who can play center can
play right or left, can’t he? An outfielder’s just an outfielder, you
see, and you can’t play more than three of ’em at a time――and get away
with it. Just now there are about six of us, all trying for three jobs.
I wish Star Meyer would go soak his head and not butt in on baseball!”
Dud laughed. “You might suggest it to him, Jimmy. Who pitched besides
Myatt? Did Brunswick get in?”
“Nobody. Ben went the distance. They couldn’t touch him much after that
rotten third. Got a couple of hits in the fifth and about one each
inning after that. They made their last run in the eighth with two
down. A fellow cracked a two-bagger down the left foul-line and tried
to steal third, and did it because Winslow let the ball drop. Then the
next fellow hit an easy one to Ayer and Myatt didn’t cover base in time
and the chap on third scrambled in. I guess it was just as well Pete
didn’t derrick Ben, after all, because he certainly pitched a corking
game after that third inning. Gee, but I’m hungry! Wish I was at
training table,” he added wistfully. “They get steaks there!”
They went over to Nick Blake’s room after supper and found Hugh and
Bert and Guy Murtha there, and there was much baseball talked and
many “might-have-beens” discussed. Dud, as a non-participant, had
little to say, and Hugh, who might have talked a good deal since he
had rather distinguished himself by his work at the bat and on the
bases, was almost as silent. After awhile, on the excuse of showing
Dud a new book, Hugh led the other off upstairs and they settled down
full-length on the window-seat, beside the open casements, and had a
fine, chummy talk. Dud could talk well enough when there was but a
single listener, and tonight Hugh found the younger boy far from dull.
By the time Bert Winslow came in, yawning, they had discovered numerous
bonds of sympathy such as mutual likes and dislikes and an intense
desire to make good at baseball. Hugh, entering the game as the veriest
tyro and with a deal of doubt and not much enthusiasm, was now a rabid
“fan” and almost amusingly eager to make a name for himself.
Bert, I think, wanted to go to bed, but was too polite to start while
there was a visitor present, and so toppled into a chair and joined the
conversation. Dud realized that Bert didn’t care very much for him and
so tried to get away a few minutes after the other’s advent, but Hugh
wouldn’t have it.
“Oh, sit down and behave yourself, Baker! It isn’t late. I say, Bert,
Baker and I have been discovering that we have lots of things in
common, if you know what I mean.”
“Really?” Bert stifled a yawn. “Such as what, ’Ighness?”
“Oh, baseball, for one, you know. Tennis, too. And oysters――――”
“Oysters!”
“Yes. You see I happened to think that a dozen nice cold raw oysters
would taste corking. They would, wouldn’t they?”
“Out of season, you chump.”
“Never! That’s only prejudice, old chap. Well, anyway, oysters was one
thing――_were_ one thing, I should say. English is beastly confusing at
times, eh? And then we found that Baker knew my part of the country,
down Maryland way, you know. He comes from Delaware.”
“So would I,” laughed Bert.
“Delaware,” replied Dud, smiling, “is small but select. Where’s your
home, Winslow?”
“Pennsylvania; Shrevesport. Know it?”
Dud shook his head. “Some of my folks lived in Pennsylvania once, a
good many years ago.”
“It’s a good state. They were foolish to leave it,” yawned Bert. “Hope
they didn’t have to?”
“Why, in a way I believe they did. You see one of them was an officer
in the American Army, and when Howe occupied Philadelphia they thought
it might not be healthy.”
“Oh,” said Bert. Hugh smiled.
“Still,” continued Bert, “they needn’t have gone to Delaware, eh?”
“I don’t think they did just then. A couple of them were with
Washington at Valley Forge. I think the women went to New Jersey until
Philadelphia was evacuated again. I don’t know just what happened
then. We’ve been living in Delaware only since my grandfather’s time.
He moved there from Philadelphia to improve his state.”
“Improve his state? You mean he was――was hard up?” asked Bert
suspiciously.
“I can’t say. I’ve been told it was to improve his state. That’s all I
know.”
Hugh laughed. “You began it, Bert! Honors are even. As judge of the
debate, I declare it a draw.”
Bert smiled slowly. Then: “All right, Baker,” he said amiably, “you
win! Fact is, I don’t know anything about Delaware or a thing against
it. Sorry if I trod on your toes.”
“You didn’t, Winslow; I moved them out of the way,” laughed Dud.
After the latter had taken his departure and the two roommates were
preparing for bed, Hugh heard a grunt from the opposite chamber.
“What’s troubling you?” he called.
“Nothing,” was the answer. “I was just thinking that that kid isn’t
such a fool, after all, eh?”
“Well,” replied Hugh, winking at himself in the glass, “I rather fancy
he had you, old top.”
Bert’s only response was another grunt, but it sounded assenting.