BASEBALL.
"Of course they guessed how we made our escape, Rob."
Merritt spoke as the two lads lay crouched in the thick brush far removed
from harm's way.
"Naturally. The fresh breaks in the roof would show them that. But,
beyond that, they are none the wiser as to our identity, of which I am
heartily glad."
"I can understand that. You don't like the look of things."
"Merritt," Rob spoke very soberly, laying his hand on the other's arm,
"it looks to me as if we've stumbled on a monumental plot against Uncle
Sam's canal. I don't know much of politics, but I do know enough to
realize that there is a certain South American republic that thinks that
the Canal Zone was stolen from her by trickery and deceit. I'm sorry to
say, too, that I've heard that there are interests right here in the
States that agree with her--people who think that the opening of the
canal will result in enormous losses to freight, and who would like to
see the canal completion delayed at all costs."
"I see. You think that the two dark men were representatives of that
republic you mentioned."
"I _know_ one of them was," snapped Rob; "he is its representative at
Washington."
"Wow! Say, Rob, this is a big thing we've stumbled upon. We must bring it
to the attention of the proper authorities."
"That's our duty as Scouts."
"Of course. But what steps do you propose to take?"
"I don't just know yet. We must see Mr. Mainwaring, of course, first. It
will be for him to decide. But--horrors, Merritt!--we've forgotten all
about Tubby. He's asleep in the rig. Look, Jared and his friends are
piling into the auto. If they go down that road they are sure to discover
him. They may do him some injury."
But the next instant both the anxious lads drew a sigh of relief. Instead
of taking the by-road, the auto struck off across lots along a barely
perceptible and weed-grown track. In a few moments it was out of sight
and the coast was clear. Then, and not till then, the two Boy Scouts set
out to rejoin Tubby. They found that rotund youth blissfully sleeping,
while the old nag cropped grass at the roadside. They awakened their
stout comrade and soon took the lees of sleep out of his eyes by relating
all that had passed within the last hour. Tubby heartily agreed that the
first thing to be done was to put Mr. Mainwaring on his guard.
Naturally there was no more thought of bill posting, and filled with a
sense of the duty that lay before them the three Boy Scouts drove rapidly
back to Hampton. But there a disappointment awaited them. Mr. Mainwaring
had been called away on business. He had gone west and would not be back
for a week or more. So for the present the scene in the barn had to be
forgotten, while more immediate matters were attended to. During the
ensuing week nothing was seen of Jared, but the Saturday afternoon of the
game found him "warming up" on the ball field with the orange and black
of the Hampton team on his back.
Rob and Merritt fairly boiled over with indignation as they watched him.
But they decided not to say anything to him that might put him on his
guard.
"We'll give him all the rope he wants," declared Rob. Later he was
bitterly to regret the adoption of this policy.
The grounds began to fill up early. The game aroused widespread interest
in that section of Long Island. As the local paper put it, "red-hot ball"
was looked for. Enthusiastic young ladies were there by the score, waving
flags from the bunches on sale about the field by hawkers. The
grand-stand filled early. Rob's team-mates noticed his eyes frequently
straying in that direction.
"Looking for Lucy Mainwaring," whispered Tubby to Merritt with a grin on
his round and blooming countenance.
Finally the game was called and soon both teams were on the field. Hiram,
captain of the Eagles, won the toss and chose to go to bat first. The
game was started. Nelson promptly struck out. He could not help making a
wry face as he threw down the willow.
A broad grin was on Jared's face. He went through all sorts of antics, as
Andy Bowles came to bat with a look of grim determination on his face.
Jared was good; that was a fact which admitted no blinking, as the Eagles
had to acknowledge. Andy was given first base on balls, tried to steal
second, was thrown out and retired disgruntled to the bench. The Hampton
rooters began to give their war cry. The Eagle supporters replied to it
bravely. It was early in the game to be making any predictions. Rob was
third batter. He struck out. Jared's delight was ill-concealed.
"I'll shut 'em out," he bragged loudly, not caring who heard. "I'll show
the tin soldiers some pitching."
The Eagle supporters had to admit that things did not look very roseate,
but they consoled themselves by recollecting the fact that practically
the game had only begun.
Hampton now went to the bat. Merritt occupied the pitcher's box. He had
injured his arm somewhat in practice, but it was agreed, after a
consultation, to put him up as first pitcher, holding Rob in reserve till
they got the Hampton's gait. Merritt showed wonderful form. In one, two,
three order he struck out Hampton's batters, including Jared.
Great was the delight of the Eagles and their friends.
"Good boy, Merritt! Good for you! Kr-e-e-e-ee-ee!" was heard on all sides
as the Hamptons came running out to take their positions in the field.
Merritt felt a glow of pleasure as Rob congratulated him.
"I hope I can keep it up," was all he said.
"I hope so, too; but I'd like to have a chance at Jared," responded Rob.
The Eagles now came to the bat, Rob leading. Rob was not only a good
pitcher but a sure batter. Whiz-z came Jared's ball. Rob met it and
promptly drove a humming liner into right field. It was a safe base hit.
"Oh, you Eagles!" chanted the crowd; those of them who were not lined up
for Hampton, that is.
Rob watched his chance and stole second, to the huge delight of his team
supporters. An ugly look was on Jared's face. The next batter, Merritt,
received first base on four balls. Cheers and yells greeted this. Jared's
countenance grew blacker and blacker. He bit his lip impatiently.
Suddenly Rob played dangerously off second base. The Hampton second
baseman was close to him. It was a daring move. Jared saw it in a flash.
The catcher's signal came. He threw the ball to the Hampton short stop on
second base.
But Jared's chagrin at the way his pitching was being "knocked about"
unsteadied his aim. He threw wild. The ball passed above the short stop's
outstretched finger tips. Rob darted off for third base like a jack
rabbit.
The right fielder got the ball and shot it to third base, but, although
the ball and Rob seemed to arrive simultaneously, Rob was hugging the bag
contentedly in the nick of time. This was a quick, stirring bit of play
and brought yells from the crowd, among whom criticisms of Jared were
freely expressed. He grew pale with rage and chagrin.
Paul Perkins now came to bat. The dreamy lad struck out. His apparent
unconcern made the crowd laugh. They laughed even more when Tubby, having
struck out also, calmly picked up a bit of pie he had been munching when
he came to bat and marched to his seat contentedly chewing it.
At this stage of the game two were out, Merritt was on second and Rob on
third.
Now came the turn of Ernest Thompson, a big-eyed, serious-looking lad,
one of the first recruits to the Eagle standard and a first-class scout.
Jared was now on the broad grin. Thompson looked easy.
"Look out, baby-face," chuckled Jared, poising himself.
An in-curve shot from his hand. Ernest gazed at it in an uninterested
manner and allowed it to go by.
"Strike one!" came the sonorous voice of the umpire, who was Sim Giles,
the postmaster.
"Oh-h-h-h-h!" yelled the crowd.
The next ball was of the same character. This time Ernest struck at the
ball. He missed and the crowd yelled again. Jared began to regain
self-confidence.
"Strike two," was the cry.
The third ball was high.
"Ball one," declared Sim.
Then came an out-curve. But it was too far out. Jared was a rather ragged
pitcher.
"Ball two," called Sim.
Suddenly Jared threw to third base. But, quick as he was, he didn't catch
Rob off.
"How's that?" yelled Higgins, the Hampton third baseman, as he touched
Rob.
The umpire merely waved his hand in what he deemed a professional manner.
"A thousand years late," chuckled Rob to Higgins.
Jared heard him and flashed him an ugly look. Hatred gleamed in his eyes.
Rob watched him narrowly and again stole off third.
Bang!--came a swift straight ball at the dreamy Ernest. But he was not in
"a trance," as Jared had scornfully thought. Crack!--went a hot grounder
to short stop. Merritt stood fast at second, but Rob, like an arrow from
a bow, shot off for home. The short stop fired in the sphere to the
catcher as quickly as he could. But before the ball got there, Rob, his
legs working like pistons, had passed the home plate.
What a roar went up then! Flags waved and cheers resounded among the
Eagle sympathizers.
As the cheering died away the catcher, Hollis Powers, walked into the
diamond to confer with Jared, who showed by his passionate gestures that
he was mad clear through.
"Look out or they'll knock you out of the box," yelled some one.
This did not tend to improve Jared's temper. But, nevertheless, he struck
out the next batter, Simon Jeffords, which helped in part to restore his
balance. The Eagles then retired to the field.
"How do you feel, Merritt?" was eagerly asked by his comrades before he
took the pitcher's box.
"All right, so far. You'll know soon enough when my wing gets sore," was
the reply.
Apparently Rob was not destined to pitch that day. Merritt struck out the
first two batters, fielded a hot liner and threw out Jared before he got
to first base. Jared was certainly piling up his list of grievances
against the Boy Scouts. To add to his ill-feeling he had recognized Fred
Mainwaring, nodded to the latter and received the cut direct. The fact
that Lucy Mainwaring was a witness to this snub did not improve matters.
"Good boy, Merritt!" yelled the Eagle supporters in a frenzy of delight.
The third inning commenced with the Eagles at the bat. But now Jared
appeared to have on his throwing clothes. The Scout batters couldn't
hammer his pitching at all.
In fact, all that occurred while they succeeded each other at the bat was
a monotonous succession of calls from the umpire:
"Strike one. Strike two. You're out."
The Hampton villagers began to pluck up heart. They gave Jared warm
support and cheers for his really excellent work and that of his
team-mates. To the somewhat blank astonishment of the Eagles, they had
not been able to find Jared's pitching at all in this inning. It began to
look as if they were by no means to have things their own way.