A TIGHT CONTEST
"Strike one!" yelled the young umpire, as the ball landed with a
resounding thud in Bart Ferguson's big mitt.
"That's the stuff!" called several in the crowd.
"Send back the Reds with a whitewash brush," added another enthusiast.
"I guess Sam's in form to-day," remarked Tom Davis to Rodney Burke near
whom he sat. Tom was not playing, for Darrell was holding down the
initial bag.
"Wait a bit and see what happens along about the seventh inning," said
Rodney. "Sam generally falls down then if he's going to."
"Well, I hope he doesn't, that's all," said Tom, and then he gave all
his attention to watching the game.
"Ball one," was the next decision of the umpire.
"Aw what's the matter with you?" cried Sam, starting toward home where
Bart stood holding the ball. "That clipped the plate as good as any one
would want. You'd better get a pair of glasses, Kern. You can't see
straight."
"I can see as well as you!" retorted Frank Kern, the umpire.
"It wasn't anywhere near over the plate," retorted Jack King, the
batter.
"Aw, you don't know a good ball when you get one," snapped Sam. "I
guess----"
"That'll do now!" called Darrell sharply from first. "This isn't a kid
game. Play ball. Don't be always kicking, Sam."
"Who is always kicking?" demanded the pitcher, and it was evident to all
that he was in unusually bad temper.
"I hope it isn't on my account," thought Joe who, from his position in
deep centre, was waiting for anything that might come his way. He had
been told to play far out, for King was known as a heavy hitter.
Sam received the ball from Bart with a scowl and wound up for the next
delivery. Sam was a natural pitcher. That is, he had good control, as a
rule, and he made his shoulder and back do most of the work of the
pitching arm, as all professionals do. Still his unpleasant temper often
made his efforts go to waste.
"Strike two!" called the umpire this time, and there was no doubt about
it for King had swung viciously at the ball. But Sam had sent in a
puzzling little drop, and the knowledge that he had fooled a good batter
brought a smile to his otherwise scowling face.
"Here's where I get you!" he predicted.
But alas for his hopes! The bat met the ball squarely and Sam had made
the mistake of sending a fast ball to a heavy hitter enabling King to
knock out a pretty three bagger. Far back as Joe had stationed himself
he was not far enough and he had to turn and run after the horsehide.
And how he did run! He was thinking desperately what would happen if he
missed it! He made up his mind that he would not, yet it was not within
the power of any one to get to the spot before the ball fell.
Joe felt it graze the tips of his fingers as it rushed downward but that
was all. He heard himself groan involuntarily in anguish as the ball hit
the ground with a thud. He lost no time in idle regrets however, but
picked it up and made a throw to third in time to hold King there, for
the doughty player had a notion of continuing on home.
"Good try old man!" yelled some spectators on the benches nearest Joe.
He felt that his effort was somewhat appreciated but he wondered what
Darrell would think of it. Sam was scowling again, whether at Joe's
perfectly natural miss, or the fact that he was hit for three bases was
impossible to guess.
"Try for the next one," called Darrell cheerfully, and Sam did with such
success that Bigney, who was second up for the Red Stockings, only
pounded out a little drizzler that Sam quickly gathered in and threw to
first. King was still held on third. Smart fanned out, and then came
Steel, who, after knocking a couple of fouls, was fooled on a little
in-shoot which made three out, King dying on third and the side being
retired with no runs.
"Oh, not so bad," said Sam as he walked in to the bench.
"I guess we've got their number all right," assented Darrell. He saw Joe
coming in from centre and the manager stopped to speak to him.
"Nobody could have gotten that ball," he said, for he realized that the
new player might blame himself unjustly. "I didn't think King had it in
him, or I'd have told you to play out to the limit. He won't get you
that way again."
"I guess not!" exclaimed Joe heartily.
The make up and batting order of the Silver Stars was the same as in
the game with the Resolutes save that Joe was in Jed McGraw's place, and
this brought him second to the bat. Potter was up first and managed to
get a single.
"Now, bring him in," commanded Darrell with a smile at Joe, as the
latter picked out a bat. He was very nervous, as any lad would have
been, playing his first game with a new team. He did want to make good!
"I'll try," he said simply.
Painter, the Red Stocking pitcher, had no phenomenal speed and his
curves could not be depended on to break at the right places. Still he
was a good "bluffer" and he made many a batter think that he was getting
a very swift ball. Often it would look as though it was going to hit the
man at the plate and he would instinctively step back, disconcerting his
own aim.
Joe let the first ball pass, and was somewhat surprised to have a strike
called on him. But he did not kick, for, as a matter of fact, the
horsehide had clipped the plate.
"I'll get the next one," thought Joe grimly. Then Painter worked his
usual trick, of throwing a ball close in, and Joe bent his body like a
bow.
"Strike two!" yelled the umpire and Joe felt a flash of anger. But he
said nothing, and when the next ball came he swung viciously at it. He
heard the heart-stirring ping! and, dropping his bat, he legged it for
first as Potter darted to second.
But Joe had not hit the ball nearly as hard as he thought he had, and
the result was that the shortstop gathered it in, and, by a quick throw
to first, caught our hero there.
"Quick, to second!" yelled the coacher, but Potter dropped and slid,
being counted safe.
"One down, only two more!" yelled Murphy, captain and catcher of the
"Reds," as they were called for short.
Joe felt his face burning with shame as he walked back to the bench.
"Humph! I thought we were going to see some wonders!" murmured Sam
Morton sarcastically.
"It's all right, Matson--it was an even chance, and you found the ball,"
said Darrell quickly. He knew the danger of a new player becoming
discouraged.
"Thanks," said Joe quietly.
Lantry got a single which sent Potter to third, but the next two men
struck out and with two men left on bases the Silver Stars had to take
the field again with only a goose egg to their credit.
The game ran along to the ending of the third inning with neither side
getting a run. Each team made some scattering hits but the fielding was
evenly good, and no one crossed the home plate. Joe made one fine catch
in the beginning of the third and received a round of applause that did
his heart good.
Sam was pitching pretty good ball, occasionally being found for a two
bagger, but any short-comings in this line were more than made up in the
support he received from his mates.
"It's going to be a tighter game than I thought it was," murmured
Darrell, at the close of the fourth inning, when his side had managed to
get in one run to tie the tally which the Reds had secured. "They've got
a better team than I gave them credit for."
"You don't think they're going to beat us, do you?" asked Sam anxiously.
"I--well--I hope not," was the hesitating answer.
"Does that mean you don't think I'm doing all I ought to?" demanded the
pitcher defiantly.
"Of course not. I know you wouldn't throw the game. Only I wish we could
strike more of them out," and the manager looked anxiously over the
field as his players were stationing themselves.
"Wait and see what I do this inning," invited Sam. "Perhaps you want
that new fellow to go in the box in my place." His voice was sneering
now.
"Who, Joe Matson?" asked Darrell quickly.
"That's who I mean," replied Sam surlily.
"Don't be foolish," was the manager's quiet answer. "You know he hasn't
had any experience in the box--or at least enough to play on our team,
though I think he'll make a good fielder. Now do your prettiest Sam. You
can, you know."
"All right," assented the pitcher, and once more the game was underway.
The fifth inning was productive of one run for the Silver Stars and this
after they had retired their rivals hitless, for Sam did some excellent
pitching. There was a howl of delight as the first tally came in, making
the score two to one in favor of our friends. And there was none out.
"Now we ought to walk away from them," called Darrell to his players.
Joe came up to bat and to his delight he got a single. He was advanced
to second when the next player connected with the ball, and then
followed some see-sawing on the part of the pitcher and the second
baseman, in an endeavor to catch Joe napping.
Once our hero thought he saw a good chance to steal third and he was
about to take it when something warned him to come back. He did, and
only just in time, for the pitcher threw to second. It was a close
shave.
Joe slid head foremost and as his fingers touched the bag the second
baseman leaped up in the air to catch the ball which the pitcher had
wildly thrown high.
When the baseman came down, making a wild effort to touch Joe, the iron
cleat of one shoe caught the little finger of Joe's left hand and cut it
cruelly.
The plucky centre fielder tried to stifle the groan of anguish that rose
to his lips, but it was impossible. The baseman was aware of the
accident.
Dropping the ball he knelt over Joe.
"I'm mighty sorry, old man!" he exclaimed. "Are you hurt much?"
"No--no. I--I guess not," murmured Joe, and then all got black before
his eyes, and there was a curious roaring in his ears.