CHAPTER XXV

A VARSITY LOSS

“What do you know about that?”

“Varsity beaten the first game!”

“The scrubs win!”

“Say, that Ned Slade sure can pitch!”

“And did you see Bob scoop up that hot grounder and get it to first?”

“Well, the varsity didn’t really get warmed up.”

“That home run of Sid Lenton’s was a peach, though!”

These were some of the comments that could be heard as the students filed off the diamond after the sensational finish of the practice game.

“Well, you did us,” said Bart Haley, with a smile at Jerry.

“But we’ll do you next time,” added Bill Hamilton.

“Well, I hope you do,” admitted Jerry. “We want the varsity to beat its other college opponents, and we scrubs are willing to be beaten if that comes about.”

Frank did not join in the talk, but there was a sullen look on his face. Clearly he did not fancy being beaten, especially when it was due to the work of Ned primarily, and to his own failure to hit, secondarily.

“Great work, boys! Great!” ejaculated Tom Bacon, captain of the scrubs. “That was a peach of a pick-up of yours, Bob.”

“Thanks.”

“And you certainly pulled down that high one I threw you, Jerry,” added George Fitch, who, at third, had caught a bouncing ball and heaved it over to first, but so high that Jerry had to jump for it, narrowly missing the spheroid. But he put out his man.

“Some little curve you’ve got, to fool Frank,” said Lem Ferguson to Ned.

“Oh, he’s not such a hitter.”

“He’s considered pretty good, and his average is the best on the team,” declared George. “Oh, Frank is a good player, even if there are some things about him some fellows don’t like.”

The first practice game, in which the varsity went down to defeat even by so small a margin, was the talk of the college that night. Still, it was not so important as the fact would have been later in the season. The boys had not quite settled into their stride.

Frank called a meeting of the team, and he “laid down the law,” as Bart said afterward. Frank insisted that there must be more snappy playing, nor did he excuse himself for missing Ned’s curve.

“I played rotten, fellows, I admit that,” he said, “but so did you, and we’ve got to do better or Kenwell will walk all over us.”

“They’ve got a dandy team, I hear,” said Bill Hamilton. “Some new fellows have come on, and they’ve got a pitcher----”

“So have we,” interrupted Frank. “I’ll back Jim Blake against any man they have when Jim gets warmed up.”

“Thank you!” laughed Jim, making a bow.

“But we’ve all got to play harder,” declared Frank. “If the scrub beats us again--well, they mustn’t, that’s all, if we have to ‘bean’ some of their best men.”

“Meaning those motor boy fellows, as you call them?” asked Jake Porter.

“I’m not mentioning any names,” retorted Frank. “Only play hard, that’s all.”

There was another practice game two days later, and though the scrub did its best to beat the varsity, the second nine was beaten six to ten. Ned, Bob and Jerry were a trio of strength, but they lacked support at critical moments, and though Ned did not allow many hits, those that were made off him were well placed.

“This is more like it,” said Frank to his lads, as they walked off the field. “They only beat us the other time by a fluke.”

“A fluke! Huh!” exclaimed Ned. “We’ll have a few more of those same flukes served up to you soon.”

“Don’t start anything,” begged Jerry, in a low voice.

The varsity was playing good ball, though there was room for improvement, and Frank realized it. He was a good captain and manager, though his stubbornness was not of any benefit to him nor the team.

The time was approaching for the first game of the three with Kenwell. This would take place on the grounds of the military academy. The second game would be played at Boxwood Hall, and the third, if it were needed, would be played at either place, to be decided by lot.

Meanwhile, the varsity team played other nines, winning some games and losing a few, on the whole maintaining its reputation. But the other games did not count in the opinion of the lads as much as did the annual contests with Kenwell. That was the event looked forward to almost as much as was a world series. The two institutions had long been rivals.

The scrub nine, compared to the number of games played against other scrubs, won more than the varsity. For there were several small colleges and preparatory schools in the neighborhood of Fordham, and, as these had second nines, contests were arranged with them running through the spring.

The day before the first of the Kenwell-Boxwood games Ned, Bob, Jerry and the other members of the scrub nine, played the Kenwell scrub, and beat them ten to five on the military academy grounds.

“Now let the varsity duplicate and we’ll say we’ve got a good team,” declared Tom Bacon.

“Oh, we’ll win; don’t worry!” prophesied Frank.

A big crowd of Boxwood Hall rooters went to Kenwell to see the first of the three contests. A big auto-stage conveyed the team, and in the automobile of our heroes as many of the scrubs as could find room went along to cheer for their team.

It was a perfect day, and there was a large crowd on hand. The rival cheer leaders got their cohorts going early, and songs and battle cries were wafted back and forth across the field. The boys from the academy, in their natty uniforms, made a pretty picture, and there were a number of girls and women present, so the grounds, with the vari-colored hats and dresses of the feminine contingent, held a brilliant assemblage.

Frank and Captain Oscar Durand, the latter of Kenwell, held a consultation, submitted batting lists, and flipped the coin. Frank won and chose to bat last, naturally.

“Play ball!” directed the umpire, as there came a hush in the singing and cheering.

“Don’t I wish I were in the game!” exclaimed Ned, who with his two chums and others sat among the loyal rooters.

“So do I,” echoed Bob.

“Well, we may yet. The season isn’t half over,” remarked Jerry.

The play started. There was nothing remarkable about it at first. For a few innings there was a sort of pitchers’ battle, and some pop flies were knocked by both sides.

“The boys are beginning to get on to each other’s curves,” said Bob.

Then came a break. Jim Blake served up a slow ball to Ford Tatum, the Kenwell catcher, who banged it out for a three bagger. And Durand, the captain, with a two sack beauty, brought the man in with a run that put the military lads ahead. That started things going. Several other players got hits off Jim, and the inning ended finally with the Kenwell lads four runs ahead.

“It’s all over but the shouting,” commented Ned.

“We may have a chance,” Jerry returned.

“Sock” Burchell, the Kenwell pitcher, had good curves and a fast ball. For the next two innings he held the Boxwood Hall lads to a single hit. Not a run came in. Then Frank knocked a homer which brought the crowd to its feet and sent new hope thrilling through the veins of the college team and its coherents.

Whether Frank’s sensational run made him lose his head, or whether he tried desperate measures, was not disclosed. At any rate, he directed the game wrongly from then on. He gave signals for hits and runs when he should not have done so, and while at first base, coaching, gave a wrong direction to a runner which caused him to be thrown out at second.

Then the fielders began muffing balls, the first baseman dropped one he should have held, and when the Boxwood Hall boys came up to bat for the last time they had a margin of six runs to overcome.

“The fat’s in the fire now,” sighed Bob.

And so it was. One man singled, but that was all. The next went out on a foul tip, and “Sock” struck out the two following.

Boxwood Hall had lost.