Part 13

It had clouded up ominously by the time the fifth inning commenced and the House supporters were anxious for their heroes to dispose of the Day batters before they could add to their score. But that fifth inning proved strange and wonderful. In the first place, just to start the chapter of misfortunes, Waters struck the first man up on the arm, and, after the injured member had been massaged by almost the entire Day Team in turn, the batter took his base. Waters worked one strike on the next batter and then threw him four balls. A moment later the runners decided to pull off a double steal. Ben Holden pegged the ball to Cupples, at third, but Cupples was apparently quite unprepared for such an emergency and allowed the ball to whisk over his head into left field. Gardner raced in for it, got it on the run and threw to third just as the second runner rounded that bag. This time Cupples caught the ball, but his heave to Ben was yards away from the plate and Day had tied up the score. Then they began to find Waters and hits sped hither and yon and the House outfield raced their legs off while five more tallies came over! The damage seemed done then, and perhaps it would have been as well to let Waters remain in the box and redeem himself, but Ben thought otherwise, and Sam Perkins was hurried in from right field to take his place.

Of course Sam had had no warming up and his pitching arm was stiff. But in spite of that he managed to close that half of the inning with only one more run coming across. The score now was nine to three and every moment it threatened to rain and stop further proceedings. But the clouds held up during the rest of the fifth, while House managed to send another run across, and the sixth began with the head of Day’s batting list coming up. With one out, two bases on balls and an error by Crandall, at shortstop, filled the bags. Day howled and danced along the base lines and did all it could to rattle Perkins. But the luck changed a bit then. The next batter hit a slow roller toward third and Cupples and Pierce worked the double. Encouraged by that, Perkins struck out the next batter.

With Ben calling on Pierce to “hit it out, Stan!” the last of the sixth began. Stanley obeyed instructions and lined a hot one just over shortstop’s head and, by taking a chance, reached second on a close decision. Ben laid down a bunt in front of the base and Morgan, who fielded it, chose to throw it to third. Unfortunately, the third baseman had been coaxed in by the bunt and was yards off his station when the ball reached him. Pierce was safe and Small scored “fc” after Ben’s name. Then Ben stole beautifully and House began to whoop things up. But Harold Cupples could do no better than arch a fly to shortstop and Stanley didn’t dare move from his base. Crandall waited until Morgan had two strikes and two balls on him and then shot a hard one between short and third. Pierce and Holden raced home and Crandall reposed on first. Then the unexpected happened.

Gardner, who had been playing very ragged ball, was taken out and Bert went in. Bert struck at the first delivery, caught it squarely on the nose and sent it flying far out into deep right field. So astounded was he that he had to be almost pushed from the batter’s box before he would begin his trip to first. As a result, while Crandall came all the way home from first base, beating the ball by yards, Bert got only as far as second. Morgan went up in the air then and Sam Perkins, Waters and even Lanny Grey made hits, Waters’s being a two-bagger that scored Bert and Perkins. Then Lovell, amidst the howls of his eager team-mates, strode to the plate looking fierce and heroic――and popped a little foul into the catcher’s mitt! Pierce, up for the second time in the inning, managed to send up a Texas Leaguer that might have been caught and wasn’t, and Lanny, who could run like a rabbit, raced around third and headed for home. The ball got there first, however, and instead of scoring the tying run he made the third out.

But with the tallies nine to eight the game was still not won――if the rain would hold off. House took the field determined to hold the enemy at bay for its half of the seventh and then go in and at least even things up. But with the very first ball pitched the drops began to fall. Captain Turner jumped from the bench and demanded that the game be called. Mr. Crane shook his head. The first batter went out, third to first, and still the shower was not much more than a patter. Then just as the next man had streaked a long hit over the tips of Perkins’s glove the clouds opened up and the torrents descended. Such a scurrying as there was on the part of the spectators! Doctor Merton――who had come out only an inning before――seized Mrs. Merton by the hand and scampered sans dignity for shelter. Nan, gayly encouraging them to renewed efforts, sped ahead. In a jiffy the field was deserted and the first game of the series had gone to the Day Team, the score 9–8.

The Day Team, unable to get home in such a downpour, flocked into the hall, and for a half-hour the game proceeded verbally. House declared warmly that if it hadn’t rained it would have “licked the stuffing” out of Day. (I quote the language without approval.) Day retorted that it had just begun to hit the ball when the elements had so unnecessarily interfered. And so it went, with the biggest sort of a hubbub indoors and a wild pelting of raindrops outside. And meanwhile Small, official Scorer for the House Team, and “Goldie” Duffield, who held a like position with the opposing team, were having it hot and heavy, their score-books spread before them. Except that they had each reached the same decision regarding the number of runs tallied, their records were totally at variance. It was strange how many hits Small had credited to the House and how few to its opponents, but not a whit stranger than the fact that Duffield had reversed the proceeding. And as for errors! Why, Small’s record credited Day with ten and House with six, while Duffield’s book plainly proved that House had perpetrated eleven and Day only eight! And the strangest thing of all was that each believed himself ab-so-lute-ly right!

By half past five the rain had stopped and Day went off homewards with a swagger, viewed gloomily from the porch by House.

But after the first disappointment House cheered up and looked on the bright side of things. It really did believe that had the game run its full nine innings it would have overhauled the enemy and defeated it. And that was good grounds for believing that the next time would tell a different story. On Monday practice began again and George Waters, smarting under the slur cast upon his science by the Day Team, worked like a Trojan. When George couldn’t be found in the house you had only to walk around the corner to discover him “pitching ’em in” to anybody he could persuade to don a catcher’s glove and stand up in front of him. Day did a good deal of exulting that week and told how well the Junior Four Trophy would look alongside the Hockey Cup. House let them talk and bided their time.

But, all the same, Ben Holden realized that House had a good deal of a task ahead of it. Day could afford to lose one of the remaining games, but House had to win them both. He didn’t doubt but what George Waters could be relied on to pitch the team to victory in one contest, but he didn’t believe that George could do it twice or that Sam Perkins was capable of presenting a very strong front to the enemy. But win the next game they must! And that meant that George must go into the box. With the series tied at one game each, there would be time enough to bother about the third game. And so, for fear that George’s enthusiasm would lead him to tire himself out in practice, Ben laid down the law on Wednesday.

“After this, George, you practice fifty balls every afternoon, and that’s all. First thing you know you’ll have a bad arm!”

Bert, who since his remarkable two-bagger that should have been a three, had become a keen ball player, worked hard at the batting net. Up until Thursday he was plainly discouraged, for, in spite of that wonderful hit in the game, he couldn’t locate a ball to save his life. But on Thursday the unexpected again happened. He landed on two of Sam’s offerings and cracked them into the field. After that Bert was encouraged and began to fancy himself a bit. Kid pestered Ben from morning until night to be allowed to get into the next game and Ben finally promised, to get rid of him, that if they got a safe lead Kid might go into the outfield for a couple of innings. Whereupon Kid moistened his glove in the inelegant but approved manner of all great players and begged whoever was within hearing to “slam him one!” Undeniably Mt. Pleasant Academy had become baseball mad.

And the Saturday came, and it rained all the morning until half-past eleven. But at twelve the sun was out hot and at two Mr. Crane telephoned to Captain Turner in the village that the grounds were dry enough to play on. Warned by their previous experience, Mrs. Merton and Nan came to the game with waterproofs. But, as it turned out, they didn’t need them. The clouds floated off into the east and the weather proceeded to give an excellent imitation of a mid-June day.

I shan’t burden you with a detailed description of that second game because, since House won, a third contest was made necessary and you’ll have to read about that. Waters pitched a fine game and Day made only twelve hits off him in nine innings. On the other hand, Sibley, who started in the points for the Day Team, was easy for the enemy and lasted only three innings. Then “Toots” Morgan came in from left field and took his place. But by that time House was leading six runs to two, and during the rest of the performance she managed to hold Day down to a total of five runs and at the same time amass a very tidy little bunch of twelve for herself. In the sixth Perkins relieved Waters on the mound. Kid played through two whole innings, had two chances and accepted them both, went once to bat and was passed to first and stole second by sheer cheek. That he was finally left on third base was no fault of his.

Bert played four innings, had little to do in the field and secured a scratch hit in the fifth inning, scoring Cupples from third. The errors on each side were fewer to-day and both teams played a steadier game. Flushed with victory, House went off the field cheering, while Nan, having nothing else handy, waved her raincoat in ecstasy.

Day was disappointed. It had firmly expected to win the series in two games. Now it must play a third and there was only Morgan to depend on, for Sibley had proved himself a very simple conundrum for the enemy. And Ben Holden and Waters and a half-dozen others, “doping it out” that evening, found cause for encouragement.

“They’ll pitch Morgan again next Saturday,” said Ben. “If we can only find him we can win, fellows. They won’t dare put in Sibley. He hasn’t a thing.”

“The best that ‘Toots’ has is that slow ball of his,” observed Stanley Pierce. “I get fooled on that every time. It looks so good until you swing for it!”

“That’s so, it’s a puzzler and no mistake,” said Steve Lovell. “But we may get onto it better the next time. The trouble is that even if you do hit it it’s dollars to doughnuts you pop up an easy fly!”

“And you can’t bunt it no matter how hard you try,” said Waters. “I’d have scored Sam this afternoon in the fourth if I could have laid down a bunt along first base line.”

“Well, we’ll do ’em up brown the next time,” promised Pierce. “There’s one thing about those fellows, and that is if we can once get them started they’ll go up in the air like a kite.”

“So would we, maybe,” said Cupples.

“No use trusting to that sort of thing,” Ben observed. “Hit the ball. That’s the way to win. Knock ‘Toots’ out of the box in the first inning or so, the way we did Sibley, and we’ve got ’em nailed.”

“I don’t wish Morgan any harm,” sighed Sam Perkins, “but if he caught the mumps or the measles or something between now and Saturday it would be an awful help to us!”

“We might send him a bottle of microbes,” laughed Lovell. “Who’s going to start the pitching for us, Ben?”

“I don’t know yet,” answered Ben Holden. “What do you think, George?”

“I’m ready, all right, but I think it would be just as well to give Sam a chance if he feels fit when the time comes.”

“I’d rather you started it, George,” said Perkins. “Then if we get a few runs to the good I’ll do my best to hold ’em. Still, I’m perfectly willing to start it if you want me to.”

“There’s plenty of time to decide that,” said Ben. “For that matter, I’m not afraid in either case. If we can hit Morgan we can win. And so it’s up to us to get busy this week at the net and find our batting eye. And we’re going to have some work on the bases, too, fellows. We’ve been pretty punk on the bases so far.”

“Well, look at the coaching we get,” challenged Cupples. “I could have scored twice from third this afternoon if Steve hadn’t held me there each time!”

“You could not!” denied Lovell. “The first time you didn’t have a ghost of a chance to get home. The ball was in second baseman’s hands before you’d made the turn!”

“Indeed it wasn’t! Second didn’t get the ball until I’d rounded the bag and you grabbed me!”

“I’ll leave it to anyone! You saw it, Ben. Wouldn’t he have been out――――”

“I don’t know, Steve. Anyway, post-mortems aren’t any good. Besides, there’s no use taking big chances on bases as long as you’re ahead and the other team’s playing steady. Once they’re up in the air, why, then I say steal ’em! The more you risk the more you bother ’em and the more you gain. There’s a time for playing it safe and a time for running wild. Now you fellows beat it; I’m going to bed.”

Kid, who had been a silent listener to the discussion, followed Stanley Pierce across to their room very thoughtfully. Just before he crawled into bed he asked:

“Say, Stanley, if they didn’t have Morgan to pitch for them next Saturday we wouldn’t have any trouble winning, would we?”

“Of course not. We’d drive Sibley into the cellar in about two innings!”

Later, when the light had been out a good five minutes, Kid piped up again.

“Say, Stanley?”

“Go to sleep!”

“But――――”

“Well, what is it?”

“You can’t really get microbes in bottles, can you, like Steve said?”

Stanley pulled himself into a sitting posture in the dark and glared sternly in the direction of his roommate.

“No, you can’t! And don’t you go and get any fool schemes in that silly little head of yours, Kid. If I catch you up to any tricks――――”

“The idea!” murmured Kid. “Good night, Stanley.”

XXI

“HAIRBREADTH HARRY”

House surely got down to hard work on Monday. Never before perhaps had ten boys labored more heroically to win a game of ball. There was batting practice between morning school and dinner, pitching practice whenever Waters and Perkins could get ten minutes of time, and general work in the afternoon. On Wednesday Ben called in Small and Kid and made up two teams of six each. Neither team had any outfield and when a long hit was made the game stopped while a baseman trotted after the ball. But the plan worked very well in spite of that. Perkins pitched for one team and Waters for the other and the six inning contest gave the fellows a chance to practice base running. As Bert said afterwards, it was worth a lot of money to see Small trying to steal second and being invariably caught between bases. Since the first game the Day Team had been holding practice in the village, a very satisfactory arrangement for them and for their opponents. As may be imagined, studies suffered these days and only the most dire threats from Dr. Merton kept the students to any semblance of labor. House awoke on Friday full of hope. It retired Friday night filled with gloom and apprehension.

Just before morning school was dismissed Mr. Crane announced that Doctor Merton wished to see Holden and Bryant in his office at a quarter past twelve. Uneasy and questioning glances passed from seat to seat, and in the hall the House fellows clustered anxiously around Ben, demanding to know what was up. Ben only shrugged his shoulders and declared that he hadn’t any idea what was wanted of him. But he looked a little worried, nevertheless, and he and Bert made their way down the corridor to the office at the appointed time.

“Boys,” said the Doctor, “what do you know about this?”

“This” was a much-tattered story-paper which the Doctor held to view. Across the top of the first page ran the legend “Hairbreadth Harry, the Gentleman Scout.” Bert looked blank, but Ben flushed. The Doctor viewed them gravely and waited. As there was no reply he addressed Ben.

“Holden,” he asked, “is this your property?”

Ben hesitated for an instant. Then, “No, sir,” he answered.

The Doctor turned to Bert. “It was found in your room this morning, boys. It must belong to one of you. Is it yours, Bryant?”

Bert did some hard thinking in a small fraction of time. Then he nodded without speaking. Ben shot a look of amazement at him and the Doctor, watching narrowly, saw and frowned.

“Hm. You’re quite certain it isn’t yours, Holden?” he asked again. Again Ben hesitated. Finally,

“I――no, sir, it isn’t mine,” he replied.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the Doctor. “You’re an old boy here and you, at least, should know better than to bring such――such indecent trash into school. There is perhaps a little more excuse for Bryant. He has not been with us very long. However, that is not excuse enough. The rule prohibiting such literature is well known. You knew of it, Bryant?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Bert in a low voice.

“Quite so. Well――” The Doctor hesitated, turning the pages of the obnoxious pamphlet. “As this is your first misdemeanor of any sort since you have been in school, Bryant, I propose to be lenient with you. I want first, however, your promise that as long as you are with us you will not again own or read such stuff as this. Very good. As punishment I will prohibit you from taking part in the baseball game to-morrow. Another time you will not escape so easily. That is all. You may go, boys.”

Once out in the corridor, Ben turned to Bert. “Why did you tell him it was yours?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“Why not?” replied Bert. “He was after one of us. It wouldn’t have made it any different if you’d told him you’d just borrowed it. He’d have punished you just the same, I guess. It doesn’t matter if I don’t play to-morrow, but it would make a heap of difference if you didn’t, Ben. You’re the only fellow we’ve got who can catch a little bit.”

“I know, but――but it isn’t your funeral,” grumbled Ben. “The thing belongs to Kid and Kid ought to be the goat.”

“That wouldn’t do you any good, Ben. You borrowed it. It was in our room, you see. Besides, there’s no use in lugging Kid into it. I don’t mind not playing――much.”

“It’s a shame!” said Ben. “I don’t like it. It’s up to me and I ought to face the music.”

“Yes, and then we lose the game,” replied Bert with a shrug. “That’s a bully idea, isn’t it? You keep quiet and it will be all right. I’m sorry I had to lie about it, but I hated to see Day get that trophy!”

Ben said no more then, but all during dinner Bert noticed that he was unusually quiet and worried looking. Afterward, in the hall before afternoon school, Bert managed to whisper to him:

“Look here, Ben, don’t you go and do anything silly about that, will you? It’s all right. I don’t mind not playing. Besides, maybe you wouldn’t need me anyhow. Just you keep mum, Ben.”

Ben nodded, but the nod didn’t seem to promise much. Still, Bert thought the other looked more cheerful and that doubtless meant that he had abandoned any quixotic notions he might have entertained of assuming the blame.

But if Bert had followed Ben from the classroom after school he would not have felt so easy in his mind, for Ben marched straight to Dr. Merton’s office and waited there until the Doctor came in.

“Ah, Holden!” The Doctor looked a little surprised. “Want to see me, do you?”

“Yes, sir, if you please. It’s about ‘Hairbreadth Harry,’ sir.”

“About――_who_?” asked the Doctor bewilderedly.

“About that――that dime novel, sir.”

“Oh!” The Doctor frowned. “What about it, Holden?”

“Well, sir, you asked if it was mine and I said it wasn’t. It isn’t mine, but I――I was reading it. It――it was in my possession.”

“So? And whose is it?”

“I’d rather not say, sir, if you please.”

“But Bryant told me it belonged to him. Ah, I see. It belongs to Bryant and you were reading it.”

“No, sir, it isn’t his, Doctor. He――he hadn’t anything to do with it. I had nothing to read one day and somebody had this and I――I borrowed it. I’m sorry.”

“And why do you tell me this, Holden?” asked the Doctor gently.

“It didn’t seem fair, sir, for Bryant to take the blame and the punishment. He said it was his for fear you wouldn’t let me play in to-morrow’s game. You see, there isn’t any one else to hold Waters――”

“To hold water?”

“No, sir, to hold Waters――George Waters; that is, to catch him?”

“Oh, I see. And Bryant was afraid you’d get beaten. Is that it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And so he told a lie.”

Ben was silent. The Doctor swung about and looked through the open window for a minute. At last, “Well, Holden, I’m sorry about this,” he said, facing the culprit again. “But what was mete for Bryant is none too severe for you. In fact, as you are an older boy, the punishment in your case ought of right to be more severe. But as you have done an honest, manly thing in coming and telling me, my boy, I’ll be as lenient as I may. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let you take part to-morrow.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Ben mournfully. “And Bert, sir? You’ll let him off, won’t you? He’s just a kid yet, and――――”

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Holden. His lie was, perhaps, told impulsively and with the desire to shield you, but a lie is a lie, Holden, and I cannot condone untruthfulness. Bryant’s sentence must stand. I’m sorry for you both. I realize that it will be a great disappointment to you not to be able to play to-morrow.”

“I can stand it, sir, but it――it means that we get beaten.” And Ben gulped. The Doctor nodded.

“I’m sorry. Was there anything else?”

“No, sir, thank you.”

“Thank you, Holden, for coming and telling me.”

Ten minutes later it was known that the House Team would play to-morrow without its captain, and the gloom hung heavy. Some of the fellows censured Ben for confessing to the Doctor. There had been no call for such a silly course, they declared. Every one agreed that certain defeat stared them in the face. Ben said very little, but what he did say was to the point.

“I can’t play, but I’m still captain. Somebody else will have to catch and I guess it had better be Steve. Kid, you run up and get my mitt. We’re not beaten, yet, so don’t let’s talk like it. Steve, you and George and Sam come down to the net with me. You’ve got to learn the signals.”

The rest of the team, which was to have no work to-day, followed gloomily and stood around while Steve Lovell, with Ben’s big catcher’s mitt on his hand, stood up in front of the net and let Waters and Perkins take turns in slamming the ball in to him, while Ben stood by and explained and coached, sometimes swinging at a ball with the bat to accustom Steve to the work before him. It was almost dark when Ben called a halt and Steve, tired and nervous, pulled the mitt off with a sigh of relief.

“I’ll make a fearful mess of it to-morrow, Ben,” he groaned. “I know I shall!”

“You mustn’t,” answered Ben grimly. “You can’t afford to. If you do as well as you’ve done to-day we’ll get by.”

“Who’s going to play my bag?” asked Steve.

“Sam. Kid goes into right.”