FARDALE’S BRILLIANT OPENING.
The game of the Great Northern being well advertised and the day fair
and bright, a large crowd turned out. The Great Northern boys seemed to
think the whole thing something of a lark. They looked on the cadets
with amusement, fancying they could win the game with ease.
At the usual hour the game was called, with the visitors at bat. When
Chester Arlington went into the box for Fardale and Dick Merriwell was
seen sitting on the bench, there came from the cadets a murmur of
surprise and disappointment.
“Well, what do you think of that?” exclaimed Hector Marsh, who was
seated with his usual companions, Walker, Preston, and Shaw. “Arlington
is going to pitch this game.”
“This is clever of Merriwell,” said Preston. “He is sending a lamb to
the slaughter. He knows which side his bread is buttered on. We can’t
beat those fellows.”
“Well, I will say one thing,” observed Walker. “This is the first time I
have ever known Merriwell to decline to face the music.”
“It shows just how big a chump Arlington is,” growled Marsh. “Why, poor
fellow! he oughter know better!”
“I was counting on seeing the mighty Merriwell knocked out of the box
to-day,” said Preston. “This is a great disappointment to me.”
“It’s ten to one Arlington won’t last three innings,” nodded Walker.
“Perhaps Merriwell will go in after that, and we will have the pleasure
of seeing both of them get their bumps.”
Chester had been taking good care of himself for several days and was
feeling in fine fettle. He was full of confidence, as usual, and
believed he would be able to astonish every one by his work that day.
“Well! well! well!” roared one of the Great Northern players from the
bench, as their first batter stepped out. “See him pound the leather!
Watch him drive it a mile!”
Up popped Ted Smart, who cried:
“Please don’t drive it a mile, sir! Please don’t drive it more than half
a mile! I know you will hit it very, very hard, but I hope you won’t
spoil the ball!”
Arlington was ready to pitch, and now the players behind him opened up.
“Put it right over, old boy,” said Earl Gardner.
“Trim his whiskers!” chattered Chip Jolliby.
“Let ’im see ’ow ’ard ’e can ’it hit,” advised Billy Bradley, the
English boy.
“Dern my picter! I am right here behind ye!” piped Obediah Tubbs.
“Put it into the pocket!” growled Buckhart, holding up his big mitt.
“Put it right there, old man!”
Having toed the slab, Arlington whistled in the first ball, which was a
sharp inshoot.
The batter struck, and the ball plunked into the Texan’s glove.
“Oh, dear me!” came from Ted Smart. “Didn’t he hit it hard!”
The entire Fardale team was chattering away now in a lively fashion,
every player on his toes and ready to do his duty.
Having led the batter to swing at the first one, Chester sought to
“pull” him with an outcurve.
Ligner was wary, however and refused to go after it.
“Get ’em over! Get ’em over, young feller!” he growled. “Can’t you find
the plate?”
Chester tried a high one, and again Ligner missed it.
“Wasn’t that an awful hit!” came from Smart. “I didn’t expect him to hit
it so far!”
Arlington was doing his best at the very outset. He could not lead
Ligner into reaching for wide ones. As a result, he was compelled to put
the ball over.
Then the batter did hit it. He drove it like a shot straight at Gardner,
who never flinched. The ball struck in Earl’s hands, but dropped to the
ground. Quick as thought Gardner picked it up and sent it across to
first, and the first batter was out.
Ligner paused near the base and stood with his hands on his hips,
staring at Gardner.
“Burned your mitts a little, kid, didn’t it?” he cried. “Next time I
will take your paws off. You will learn better than to stand in front of
those after a while.”
At this the cadets set up a derisive shout.
“That fellow is foolish, Mr. Man!” cried Smart, as soon as he could be
heard. “He never will seem to dodge ’em!”
“That’s the first one, Arlington,” said Gardner. “They’re half gone—half
gone!”
“You must be good at arithmetic!” derisively called one of the visitors
from the bench.
“Beautiful work, Gardner!” said Arlington, in satisfaction. “A fellow
can pitch with that kind of support!”
The second hitter was a stocky young Irish lad by the name of O’Rouke.
“He’s easy,” asserted Ligner. “All you have to do is wait, and he will
put a pretty one right over.”
Chester surveyed O’Rouke critically, his toe on the pitching plate. His
pose was one of grace, and he knew it. He knew also that in the grand
stand were several girls who were watching him anxiously. He had seen
his sister, accompanied by Doris Templeton and Zona Desmond, enter the
grand stand, and occasionally his eyes sought them.
“June,” said Zona, “I think your brother is just splendid! I think he is
the handsomest fellow in the whole school!”
June smiled.
“I am glad you think so,” she said.
“I know lots of girls who think so,” declared Zona, flashing Doris a
glance.
“I hope he wins this game to-day,” murmured June. “It will mean so much
to him. It will give him courage and confidence.”
“Of course he will,” nodded Zona.
“Oh, it isn’t sure. It is going to be a hard game. Every one says Dick
Merriwell acknowledged it would be a hard game.”
“Why didn’t he pitch?”
“Yes, why didn’t he?” broke from Doris.
“I don’t know,” June confessed. “It does seem strange he should use
Chester in such a game.”
“Perhaps he was afraid,” suggested Zona.
“Oh, I don’t believe that!” June exclaimed immediately.
“Nor I,” said Doris.
“Still you can’t tell,” persisted Zona. “Of course, he would hate to
lose a game. It would hurt his record.”
“I don’t believe he would put any one else in to pitch for that reason,”
declared Chester’s sister. “It’s not like him.”
“You think it isn’t like him,” smiled Zona, in a knowing manner. “But I
believe you’re mistaken.”
“Why are you always against Dick, Zona?” demanded Doris, with a touch of
resentment.
“Oh, I’m not! You’re quite mistaken if you think I am. Only I don’t
believe he is such a very superior boy, anyway. Even Chester says his
success is mainly good luck.”
“Like other fellows,” observed June, “Chester says many things he
doesn’t mean.”
At this point O’Rouke hit the ball and drove out a liner, which Obediah
Tubbs failed to reach, although he jumped for it.
The batter was a swift runner, and he started instantly when the bat hit
the ball. Getting such a good start, he crossed first and dashed for
second.
Both Jolliby and Flint raced after the ball, but Jolliby’s legs carried
him to it first. He caught it up and wheeled, seeing that O’Rouke was
trying to stretch the hit into a two-bagger.
In the matter of throwing the lanky centre-fielder of the home team was
a wonder. He now sent the ball on a dead line into the hands of Obediah
Tubbs, who received it and jumped into the air as O’Rouke slid, spikes
first, for the bag. The runner made the slide in that manner in order to
drive Tubbs away; but the leap of the fat boy in the air permitted him
to escape being spiked, and he came down with all his weight fairly on
the sliding player.
Obediah’s bulk stopped O’Rouke as if the fellow had struck a stone wall.
His foot was six inches from the bag, and Tubbs had fallen on him.
“Judgment!” cried the fat boy shrilly. “Dern my picter! He came near
opening a seam in me that time! But, by Jim! I bet he won’t try to put
his calks into me again!”
In truth the breath had been knocked out of O’Rouke, and he lay still
for four or five seconds after Obed got up.
“The man is out!” was the umpire’s decision.
“What a shame!” yelled Ted Smart.
Arlington walked down toward second, receiving the ball from Tubbs as
the latter tossed it to him.
“You nailed him fast, Obed, my boy,” he said.
“You bet I did, by jinks!” grinned Tubbs.
“Why didn’t they get an elephant to play second base!” snarled O’Rouke,
as he brushed the dust from his suit and walked off the diamond.
“Struck a snag, didn’t you, Mike?” asked Tom Grace, the captain of the
Great Northern, as O’Rouke returned to the bench.
“That’s what I did,” nodded the fellow. “I thought I’d fix him with my
spikes that trip, but he just jumped into the air and came down on me
like a brick block. I thought he had broken every rib in my body. You
fellows want to look out for him when you slide to second.”
Hardy, the next batter, sent a nasty little bounder down to Bradley, who
fumbled it long enough for the batter to safely reach first.
“Now we’re going, boys,” laughed Grace, as he stepped out to hit. “We
might as well clinch the game right here in this inning.”
“Of course you will do it!” cried Ted Smart. “We know you will! We’ll
take delight in seeing you clinch the game!”
Chester held Hardy close to first, but the fellow was a good base
runner, and he started to steal on the second ball pitched.
Grace gave his bat a wild flourish in front of Buckhart, but the Texan
was undisturbed by this, and he proceeded to snap the ball on a line to
Tubbs, who caught it in time to be waiting for Hardy as the latter made
a desperate lunge for the bag.
“Tag, you’re it!” piped the fat boy, as he “nailed” the ball onto the
runner.
Three men were out, and the Great Northern had not scored in the first
inning. Although they were surprised by the result, the players trotted
onto the field, laughing and joking. There were three pitchers with the
team, and they had decided to use their weakest man in the box, for they
were sure he would be good enough to hold the cadets down.
The next surprise came when Gardner bunted the second ball pitched and
scudded down to first with such speed that he reached the bag safely.
“Dear me, isn’t that too bad!” cried Ted Smart, as the Fardale cheer
died away.
“That’s the tut-tut-tut-time you fuf-fuf-fuf-fooled him!” laughed Chip
Jolliby, prancing about on the coach line back of first base.
Barron Black, the second hitter, finally picked out a good one and
sacrificed himself in driving Gardner down to second.
With one man out, Dave Flint came up. Flint was beyond question one of
the finest batters on the Fardale team. He seldom lifted a ball into the
air, and his line drives were generally safety placed. On this occasion
he selected an outcurve that was on the outer corner and lined it into
right field.
With a good lead off second, Gardner literally flew over third and came
home on the throw to the plate. This throw enabled Flint to reach
second.
“That doesn’t amount to anything,” declared the captain of the visitors.
“We can give you a dozen runs and then beat you out.”
“’Ow remarkable!” drawled Billy Bradley. “’Ow hextremely confident you
hare!”
Dick was directing the game by signals from the bench, having a bat in
his hands, which he held in various ways understood by all the players.
At the same time he was talking to Arlington.
“You’re getting the support,” he said. “If they back you up that way you
will make those fellows hustle to win this game. They are overconfident
now and think they can take it anyhow. The time for us to get a start is
right away.”
“But they are hitters!” retorted Chester. “By George! I did my best to
fool those fellows and they got at the ball!”
Dick nodded.
“They know how to hit, all right,” he admitted. “It depends a great deal
on your success in keeping them from hitting safely at critical times. I
want you to win this game, Arlington, and I sincerely hope you do.”
Billy Bradley was the batter, but his hit to right bounded straight into
the fielder’s hands, and he was thrown out at first. At the same time
Flint was held on third by the catcher.
Chip Jolliby now strode out, and Factor, the pitcher, paused to laugh at
him.
“Where did this chalk mark come from?” chuckled Factor. “Bet you have to
stand twice in a place to cast a shadow.”
“You’re awful fuf-fuf-fuf-funny!” chattered Chip. “Just you
pup-pup-pup-pitch the ball, and perhaps you won’t fuf-fuf-fuf-feel so
fuf-fuf-fuf-funny!”
“Try this,” invited Factor, as he sent in a high one.
Jolliby caught it on the end of the bat and drove it over the infield,
bringing Flint home.
Then came big Bob Singleton. The cadets were wildly excited, for they
believed Bob would improve this opportunity to slug the ball. Singleton
went after it hard, but Factor was on his mettle, and big Bob finally
fanned, which retired Fardale with two runs in the first.
“What are you doing, Factor?” muttered Grace, as he walked in with the
pitcher. “They hit you that trip.”
“Oh, what’s the use!” returned Factor. “We can take this game any time
we want it. I am not going to pitch my arm off for a lot of kids like
these.”
“Better not fool with them too much. We can’t afford to let them beat
us.”
“They can’t win this game in a thousand years!” was the retort.
Although the Great Northern went after runs in the second inning and
succeeded in getting a man on third and another on second, with only one
man out, a beautiful play extinguished their hopes and shut them off
with startling suddenness. At this the cadets rose in a body and gave
the Fardale cheer.
“That was squeezing out of a tight corner,” confessed Arlington, as he
reached the bench. “They had me guessing then.”
“Get at it, boys, and make some more runs!” urged Dick.
Obediah Tubbs was distinctly seen to shut his eyes and dodge awkwardly
as the first ball was pitched. It struck him glancingly, and the umpire
sent him to first.
“The next time I will take a wing off you, Fatty!” declared Factor. “You
want to look out for that!”
“Dern your picter! You will have to put more speed into it than that!”
retorted Obed, having reached the bag. “I’d never knowed I was hit if
the empire hadn’t told me to take my base.”
Buckhart seemed eager to hit, and Factor now tried to coax him into
going after bad ones. The result was that Brad finally worked out a pass
to first, and two runners were on the bags when Arlington stepped out to
the plate.
There was a hush.
“Now watch him!” growled Hector Marsh, nudging Fred Preston. “He thinks
he will do something great! Bet he strikes out.”
“I will bet he doesn’t get a safe hit,” said Preston.
“Look at the pose he assumes!” sneered Walker. “Wouldn’t that freeze
your feet!”
After a wide out, Chester let a good one pass, and a strike was called
on him. Factor tried to deceive him with a drop, but Chester was wary
and stopped the swing of his bat so quickly that the umpire declared it
a ball.
“Oh, hit it! hit it!” exclaimed the pitcher. “What are you making
motions like that for?”
Arlington did not reply. With the next ball pitched, however, he swung
and met it full and fair. At first it seemed certain the ball would go
over the fence, and a roar of delight rose from the cadets. It struck
against the top of the fence, however, and bounded back. Although it did
not go over, this hit was sufficient to let both Tubbs and Buckhart
score.
Immediately the cadets began to sing “Fardale’s Way.”
Factor now keyed himself up and pitched at his best. Gardner drove out a
short fly that was captured, while Black followed with a longer one that
was taken by an outfielder, on which Arlington reached third. Flint now
came up once more and was given an ovation. This time he drove a hot one
along the ground, and Grace barely touched it as it went bounding past.
On this Arlington scored.
The Fardale boys were wild with delight. They shouted until they were
hoarse.
Bradley did his best to follow the good example that had been set for
him, but at last Factor woke up and struck the latter out, which retired
the home team; but not, however, until three tallies had been added to
their score, which left them, at the close of the second inning, five in
the lead.