GREAT NORTHERN FINDS ARLINGTON.
By this time the cadets were jubilant, and Chester Arlington was greatly
puffed up over his success. The Fardale boys had anticipated nothing
like this, and they were beginning to believe their team would take the
game with ease.
“This is Arlington’s day,” declared Clint Shaw. “He struck it right this
time.”
“He’s pitching a great game,” muttered Tom Walker.
“Rats!” growled Marsh. “Pitching nothing! It’s the support he’s had.
Those chaps have hit him right along, but good luck has prevented them
from piling up runs.”
“There has been lots of luck to it,” nodded Preston.
“I should say so!” snarled Marsh; “but you fellows wait—wait and see! If
they keep on hitting the ball that way, they will put him to the stable
before the game is over.”
Again Arlington’s support enabled him to hold the enemy down and keep
them from scoring.
Chester was in high spirits as he came in to the bench and sat down
beside Merriwell.
“I thought I could hold them down to-day,” he laughed.
“You’re doing well,” declared Dick. “Keep the good work up.”
At the first opportunity Buckhart slid up to Dick’s side and muttered:
“You want to watch him close, partner. See how those fellows found the
ball. Don’t sit still and let them pound out a victory when they get
started. If we can hold them down now we have got the game. Arlington
will take all the credit if we win.”
“He deserves some credit,” declared Dick.
“But you can see the kind of support he is getting. Why, Gardner could
pitch a winning game with that support!”
Although June Arlington was well pleased by what was happening, she knew
enough about baseball to understand that great credit was due her
brother’s backers for the success he was having.
Zona Desmond, however, did not look at it in this light.
“I knew what he could do if he had the chance,” laughed Zona. “He hasn’t
been given a fair show before this. Now, just look what is happening,
and he is pitching against the hardest team Fardale will have to face
this season. Aren’t you delighted, June?”
“Of course I am,” nodded June.
“But I think it was funny of Dick to put him into such a hard game,”
declared Zona. “If Dick is the greatest pitcher in this school, why
doesn’t he pitch the hard games and let the other fellows pitch the
easier ones?”
“Perhaps he has a good reason for not pitching to-day.”
The yellow-haired girl gave her head a toss.
“Very likely he didn’t care about taking chances himself. He was
afraid.”
“You know better, Zona!” burst from Doris. “You know Dick is not afraid
of anything!”
“Oh, that’s what you think! Other people may think differently.”
“I am sure Doris is right,” said June quietly. “I know Dick is afraid of
nothing.”
“Well, it is a fine thing for a fellow when every girl he knows seems to
fancy him such a wonder!” retorted Zona, with an unpleasant laugh.
The third inning proved to be a whitewash, Fardale not even succeeding
in getting a player down to first.
In the fourth inning the Great Northern got a man to third base with
only one out. But Chester’s success made him confident of shutting off
the score. His confidence vanished, however, when the next player lined
the ball out for two bags and the enemy secured a run.
Buckhart glanced toward Captain Merriwell and shook his head.
Nevertheless, Dick did not seem at all disturbed, although Tom Grace was
roaring with laughter on the coaching line and declaring that the
slaughter had begun.
“Accidents will happen, old man,” said Gardner, as he returned the ball
to Chet. “Don’t mind that.”
“But you should have stopped it!” declared Arlington.
“Why, I couldn’t touch it!”
“You didn’t try!”
Earl’s face flushed.
“Oh, he has had his lesson!” averred Grace. “He knows how those liners
feel! Bet his hands are burning yet!”
“If you’re afraid,” said Chet, “you had better let some one else play
that position.”
This injustice touched Gardner keenly, but he made no retort.
The following batter lifted a long one into the field, and the runner on
second believed he saw his opportunity to score.
By a splendid run Black succeeded in pulling the fly down, upon which he
immediately threw to Gardner, who wheeled and snapped the ball to Tubbs
for a double play.
This splendid work delighted the cadets and relieved Arlington. As he
came in to the bench, however, Chester was growling at Gardner.
“If you had stopped the liner,” he said, “they could not have scored!
You didn’t go after it until it was past you!”
Earl was beginning to get sore over this, and he gave Chet a resentful
look as he warmly retorted:
“If you’re not satisfied with my playing I will get out of the game!”
“That will do, both of you!” said Dick sharply. “No one was to blame for
that run. And no man in Gardner’s place could have touched the ball.”
At this Chester suddenly shut up, although he continued to feel angered
because the run had been made.
“We still have a good lead,” said Dick. “Get into it, fellows, and hold
them down! Perhaps you can add a few tallies right here!”
The cadets had not lost their confidence, and by a combination of good
work and good luck they also landed a man on third with only one out.
By this time Factor was nervous. He had not anticipated this sort of a
game, and he realized that his reputation with his own team depended on
his success in the present contest. Fully aware that he was regarded as
the weakest pitcher the Great Northern had, and that he had been used
against the schoolboys because Grace did not wish to wear out a better
man, he saw before him the prospect of release in case Fardale should
win.
The cheering and singing of the cadets seemed once more to put vigor and
determination into the players, and they went after Factor hotly. The
next batter happened to be Singleton, and big Bob got in one of his
wonderful long drives to the fence, on which he took three bags and sent
a man ahead of him home.
Factor’s nervousness increased.
“What’s the matter with you, Bill?” growled Tom Grace. “Are you going to
let those kids blanket you? You claim to be a pitcher!”
Factor set his teeth, determined to end it right there.
Once more Obediah Tubbs managed to get hit by the ball, and this added
to the unsteadiness of the visiting pitcher. Then came Buckhart, who
smashed the leather a fierce one, scoring Singleton and landing Tubbs on
third, while he himself took second.
Arlington walked out, smiling and confident, resolved to clinch his own
game then and there. As a result of his overconfidence Factor was able
to make him swing ineffectively twice and might have struck him out had
he not lost control and hit Chet with the ball.
This filled the bases.
Grace called for “time” and walked into the diamond.
“See here, Bill Factor,” he said under his breath, “if you’re off your
trolley you had better go to the bench. I will put Peterson in.”
“Don’t,” begged Factor. “I’m all right! I can win this game!”
“Play ball! Play ball!” roared the cadets.
“Dear me!” shouted Ted Smart, waving his arms in the air. “It can’t be
you’re frightened! Why, of course you’re not frightened! We know you
will win! You can’t help winning! It’s just as easy as can be. You’re
only playing a lot of kids, you know.”
“Poor old Factor! Poor old Factor!” sang a lot of the cadets in unison.
“I will give you one more show,” growled Grace. “It’s your last chance!”
This knowledge did not add to Factor’s steadiness, and, after having one
strike and two balls called, Gardner tucked in a beautiful little single
that scored two men.
Immediately Grace ordered Factor out of the box and replaced him with
Peterson, who was a left-hander. Peterson had a nasty drop that curved
in toward the batter’s ankles, and in short order he retired the home
team.
At this stage of the game, however, the score was eight to one in favor
of Fardale, and Arlington confidently declared he would never let the
enemy overtake them.
The next two innings proved to be hard ones, and neither side scored.
The cadets saw that in Peterson they had a problem that was difficult to
solve. Had this pitcher been put in at the beginning of the game, it is
doubtful if Fardale would have obtained a run. As it was, it began to
appear as if the schoolboys had secured a lead sufficient to give them
the game.
No longer were the members of the athletic team laughing and joking, for
at last they realized that they were “up against the real thing.”
As the innings passed and the home team continued to hold its lead,
Arlington’s confidence increased until it reached the point where he was
altogether too sure. Overconfidence is often as fatal in a hard game of
baseball as lack of confidence. It has defeated many a team that should
have been victorious.
The seventh proved to be a disastrous inning for Fardale. The visitors
came to bat with the head of their list up.
Ligner justified his name and his position by catching an outcurve near
the end of the bat and driving out a two-bagger. O’Rouke followed with a
clean single to right field, and Ligner came home with three feet to
spare. The throw to the plate in an effort to stop this run let O’Rouke
advance to second.
Yet Arlington had lost none of his confidence, and it still seemed that
the cadets had a safe lead.
Chester believed he had found Hardy’s weak spot, which was a high ball
close to the shoulder, but he had not discovered that the batter was one
of those rare men who have no weak spots. This being the case, Chet was
not a little surprised and disgusted when Hardy dropped back on a close
one, caught it fairly, and singled. O’Rouke was held at third by the
catcher, although it seemed that he might have scored.
It was now up to Tom Grace, the captain of the Great Northern, and the
look on this man’s face indicated he meant business. Chester was smiling
as Grace took his position to hit.
“Having a good time, my boy?” inquired the batter.
“Splendid!” retorted Arlington.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I hope you don’t meet with any
disappointment.”
“Don’t worry about me,” advised Chet, as he whistled in a high ball.
“Get ’em down, kid! Get ’em down!” cried Grace. “You have got to do it
or furnish me with a stepladder! I am only five feet ten, and I can’t
reach that high!”
When Arlington tried a slow drop, Grace stepped forward to the limit of
his box and picked it up with a sweep of the bat that drove it over the
infield and out between Black and Jolliby, neither of whom could catch
it.
O’Rouke scored and Hardy followed him to the plate, making the third run
of the inning without a man retired.
No wonder the smile faded from Arlington’s face.
By this time Hector Marsh was convulsed with delight, although he was
trying to conceal the fact.
“Here’s where they make a hundred!” he muttered in Preston’s ear. “They
are onto little Chet at last, and he will never stop them.”
“It begins to look that way,” confessed Fred. “Wait a minute and you
will see Merriwell take Arlington out.”
“He’s a fool if he does!” declared Hec. “This game isn’t important, and
this is Merriwell’s opportunity to let Arlington stay in and get his
bumps.”
June Arlington had grown pale, for she realized the danger, and it was
with difficulty she repressed her agitation.
“Why don’t they catch those balls?” exclaimed Zona Desmond.
“They can’t,” asserted Doris.
“I don’t believe they’re trying,” declared Zona. “They are jealous
because Chester is pitching so well, and they don’t want to catch them.
What do you think, June?”
“I am afraid Dick will have to go in to save the game,” confessed June.
“Nonsense!” cried Zona, tossing her head. “How can he save it?”
“He might stop that hitting.”
“If those fellows will catch the ball it will be all right. I tell you
they are not supporting your brother, June.”
“I don’t think that is the matter.”
“Well, I do! Any one can see it is!”
Again Brad Buckhart had cast an appealing look toward Dick. All along
the Texan had felt the visitors had a hitting team and might make a
spurt any time, and now he was sure the dangerous moment of the game had
been reached.
Chester set his teeth and faced Minot, the next batter.
Minot was a good waiter, and he compelled the Fardale pitcher to put the
ball over the plate. Getting one that satisfied him, the batter drove it
swiftly along the ground between first and second.
By a rapid play, which was astonishing for one so corpulent, Tubbs
cuffed the ball to one side, although he did not capture it. Singleton
was compelled to get off first to secure the ball, which permitted Minot
to reach the bag in safety.
With two men on the bases, Brinkley followed the example that had been
set by his companions and drove out a two-bagger, which scored Grace and
Minot.
Still not a Great Northern man had been put out in the inning.
Although the cadets had cheered Tubbs for stopping the ball, there
seemed a note of apprehension in their voices.
Hal Darrell was talking with Day and Whitney, and now Darrell said:
“See here, Day, old man, we’re going to lose this game if something
isn’t done right away.”
“What do you think ought to be done?” questioned the chairman of the
committee.
“I think Merriwell ought to get in and pitch the game out.”
“Why doesn’t he do it?” exclaimed Whitney. “He is there on the bench,
and he can go in any time.”
“Perhaps he thinks it won’t be right to take Arlington out now.”
“Do you favor interfering?” asked Day.
“Surely I am not in favor of keeping still and seeing this game lost,”
answered Hal.
“Perhaps Arlington will take a brace,” observed Whitney.
“He’s got to take a brace pretty quick,” said Darrell. “If he doesn’t
this game will be gone to the dogs before he knows it.”
“If the next man hits safely,” said Day, “I will speak to Merriwell.”
He had his opportunity a moment later, for Costigan, after fouling
twice, drove out a grounder that could not be touched by the infield,
and Brinkley took a chance to score on it. The ball was thrown to the
plate, but the throw was bad and pulled Buckhart off so far that he
could not tag Brinkley in time to stop the run.
The Great Northern had now made six runs in this fatal inning, and
Fardale was but one score in the lead. Costigan was on second, and not
one of the hilarious visitors was out.
“The game is lost!” declared Darrell.
Immediately Day hurried to Dick.
“Look here, Captain Merriwell,” he panted, “you have got to take that
fellow out.”
“Is that an order from you?” asked Dick.
“It is an order from the committee.”
“All right,” said Dick, as he quickly rose to his feet and made a
signal.
Immediately Buckhart stepped onto the home plate to prevent Wallace from
hitting.
Dick walked onto the diamond.
Instantly the cadets rose in a mass and roared his name.
“Well! well! well!” laughed Tom Grace. “At last we have put a blanket on
your pitcher. He gets to the stable. Back, back to the stable, my pretty
boy.”
Chester was white as a sheet. The moment he saw Merriwell rise from the
bench he dropped the ball and walked out of the box.
“I am sorry, Arlington,” said Dick, in a low tone; “but I have got to
take you out.”
“I am glad of it!” declared Chet. “It is fiendish luck! What’s the
matter with those duffers behind me? Have they gone to pieces?”
“You are being hit hard, that’s all,” said Dick. “You’ve pitched a fine
game up to this inning, but those Great Northern chaps are hitters, and
they have solved your delivery.”
“That’s what you think,” retorted Chet; “but I know I’m not getting
proper support. I am ready to go out.”
Although he was in no condition to pitch, Dick warmed up a little and
went into the box.
“Now we will give this baby his bumps,” laughed Grace.
Merriwell had been studying the batters, and he felt that his only
chance to stop the hitting was to “use his head.” He could not depend on
his best curves, for his side was too lame to permit him to throw them.
Chester had been using speed, and now Dick began pitching a slow ball,
which proved troublesome to the batters. After swinging twice at these
slow ones, Wallace snapped:
“Oh! put a little ginger into your arm! What’s the matter with you?
Speed up, kid—speed up!”
“Well, here’s speed for you,” retorted Dick; but again he threw a
provokingly slow ball, with the result that Wallace popped up a little
fly that dropped into Merriwell’s hands.
Like a flash Dick whirled and threw to second, catching Costigan off the
bag, and two men were out.
“Ha! ha! ha! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Ziggerboom! Riggerboom! Merriwell!
Merriwell! Merriwell!” burst from the cadets.
“Talk about luck!” grated Chester Arlington, who had witnessed this
play. “That’s his luck! Why can’t I have some of it?”
“Say, youngster,” called Tom Grace, “let me see your horseshoe. Where do
you keep it?”
Dick paid no attention to this. He concentrated every faculty on the
effort to retire Peterson, knowing the Great Northern pitcher was not
nearly as good a hitter as Ligner, who followed him.
Peterson finally lifted a high infield fly, which Earl Gardner
smothered, and the joy of the cadets was expressed in another wild
cheer, for at last the enemy had been checked, with Fardale still one
run in the lead.
Arlington was savage enough when the boys came in to the bench.
“I had that game won,” he declared. “It was not my fault they made those
runs. Why didn’t you chaps keep on playing baseball?”
This was more than Chip Jolliby could stand.
“Oh, go sus-sus-sus-soak your head!” he chattered, in disgust. “You need
something to take the sus-sus-sus-welling out of it.”
“Be careful!” panted Chet. “I won’t stand that from anybody.”
“Don’t talk to us about support!” indignantly exclaimed Earl Gardner.
“No fellow ever got better support on this field than you got.”
“That’s all right,” muttered Chet. “I saw you shirk. I saw you dodge a
liner.”
“After the game I will tell you what I think about that,” returned Earl.
“I can’t waste breath on you now.”
Although Fardale made a great effort to again increase her lead,
Peterson was too clever for the boys, and they could not score on him.
In the eighth inning Dick again worked his slow ball with success, only
one single being made off his delivery.
“We have got ’em, pard!” muttered Buckhart, as the cadets again gathered
at their bench. “You saved the game!”
“I hope so,” said Dick; “but we ought to have a few more runs.”
“Don’t fool with the kids, Peterson,” called Grace.
Peterson had no intention of fooling, and he struck out the first two
hitters who faced him in the eighth. The next man lifted a foul that was
captured by Wallace.
The Great Northern now came up for their last time at bat, and their
captain urged them to wait for Dick’s slow ones.
“He can’t use speed,” said Grace. “He’s got a lame side. A fellow told
me that before the game. Don’t get eager, fellows. Make him put the ball
over, and don’t go after it too soon.”
This advice was taken, and the first batter got a safe hit.
The next man sacrificed him to second, and there seemed a possibility
that the visitors would tie the score. At this point the strain and
excitement was intense.
By steady headwork Dick caused the next hitter to bat an easy one to
Bradley, who threw the fellow out at first.
“Whoop!” roared Buckhart, relieved and delighted. “We’ve got them now.
They are done to a turn. You hear me warble!”
There is an old saying that “no game is over until it is finished.” This
proved to be the case now, for the next hitter met one of Dick’s slow
ones and drove it far into the outfield. In their desperate dash to
catch this fly neither Flint nor Jolliby heard Dick’s warning cry to
them.
“Take it, Jolliby!” was Merriwell’s command.
Flint did not stop, and the two collided just as the ball struck Chip’s
hands.
Both went down, and the ball bounded away.
Right there misfortune fell heavily on Fardale, for both of the fellows
were temporarily stunned and so bewildered that they had lost sight of
the ball. It is certain that the Great Northern would have scored one
run, but she could not have made two scores had either Jolliby or Flint
found the ball quickly and returned it to the diamond. By the time Dave
got the ball the man who had hit it was past third and coming home.
Flint made a magnificent throw to the plate, but Buckhart received the
ball a moment too late, and at last the Great Northern was in the lead.
“There you have it!” muttered Chester Arlington, a gleam of satisfaction
in his eyes. “There is support for you, Mr. Merriwell.”
“Why, we knew how it would be!” laughed Tom Grace. “We were fooling with
you youngsters all the time.”
“Talk about horseshoes!” roared Buckhart. “If that wasn’t a case of
horseshoes for you fellows, I hope to be lynched for a horse thief!”
Now, for all of his side, Dick set his teeth and began to use speed and
curves. Buckhart shook his head warningly, for he knew every speedy ball
pitched by Merriwell was injuring his lame side. The jump ball and the
combination curve proved too much for the next hitter. He fanned three
times without touching the leather.
The Great Northern was out at last, but she had a lead of one run, and
the general impression was that Fardale had lost the game.
Nevertheless Dick encouraged his players to struggle to the last, and
they made a magnificent effort to win the game in the final half of the
ninth. With one man out a runner was advanced to third, but Peterson
again deceived the following batters, and Fardale failed to score.
The Great Northern had won the game, by a score of nine to eight.