Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XIX

  ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET

  "I wish I'd never taken the captaincy," said Joe Perkins.

  "Oh, rot! What's the good of talking that way?" asked Tracy Gilberth."The nine's coming along all right. What if Artmouth did rub it intous? We had an off day; every team's liable to have them. Look at lastyear."

  "I know," answered Joe, "we had plenty of them then, and see whathappened! We lost to Robinson, seven to nothing; we scarcely madea hit! If I thought--if I thought we were going to lose this year,I'd--I'd cut and run; honest, Tracy, I would!"

  "That'd be a nice thing to do, wouldn't it?" asked the otherdisgustedly. "Fellows would be proud of you, wouldn't they?"

  "It would be better than losing again," muttered Joe.

  "Oh, get out, Joe! Brace up; you're off your feed, that's what's thematter with you. I heard 'Baldy' telling Hanson yesterday that you weregoing stale. He didn't mean me to hear it; but I couldn't very wellhelp it. That's why you're out here with me in my 'bubble' instead oftaking batting practise this morning."

  "Oh, I know all that. A trainer doesn't send a fellow out for rideson Saturday mornings unless he's gone stale or has something else thematter. I suppose I am out of sorts, Tracy. And I guess I'd rather stayand take a licking like a little man than run away, but--" He stoppedand scowled ahead of him at the dusty road. Then, "It's all well enoughto talk about 'honorable defeat,' and all that, but it's mighty hardto lose your big game when you're captain and have worked hard and putyour whole heart into it."

  "Of course it is; I know that," answered Tracy soothingly. "But you'renot going to lose. You're going to win. So buck up, old chap!"

  "And there's poor old Tom Higgins," Joe continued dispiritedly. "Whatwill he say? I promised him I'd win this year. He's coming up nextweek, if he can, to coach for a few days; I told you, didn't I? What'llhe think when he sees how things are going?"

  "Oh, Tom Higgins be blowed!" cried Tracy. "He couldn't win himself,and I'd like to know what business he has finding fault with you if youdon't win, either?"

  "But I promised him----"

  "Well, supposing you did? If you can't win, you can't, and that's allthere is to it. Every fellow on the team is going to work as hard ashe knows how; every fellow is going to stand by you until the lastman's out. If we lose, it'll be simply because Robinson's got a betterbaseball nine. Cheer up, now, Joe, or I'll run this machine into theditch there and send you out on your silly old nut."

  The two were speeding comfortably along River Street in Tracy'sautomobile. It was ten o'clock of a fresh morning in the first week ofJune. They had left the village a half mile behind and were _chugging_along over a somewhat dusty country road with green hillsides to theright and the gleaming river to the left. Occasionally the fragrant airwas sullied with the smell of gasoline, and Joe sniffed disapprovinglyand made uncomplimentary remarks about motor vehicles in general, andTracy's in particular. But Tracy, who had had his orders from Simsonto cheer Joe up and bring him home in good spirits, refused to takeumbrage, and declared that gasoline had a rather pleasant odor.

  Joe was certainly suffering from nerves, and had been ever since thedisastrous game with Artmouth, two days before, when Erskine hadgone down ingloriously to the tune of 17 to 1, the 1 being the resultof good fortune rather than good playing. Perhaps, as Tracy put it,the team had merely had an off day; at all events its performance hadbeen anything but encouraging to the supporters of the Purple, andhad thrown Joe into the depths of despair. With the final game of theseason, the contest with Robinson, but two weeks distant, he saw onlydefeat ahead.

  They were in sight of the Cove now, and Tracy suddenly pointed ahead."What in thunder's that, Joe?" he asked. Joe roused himself fromunprofitable thoughts and looked toward the point indicated by hisfriend's finger.

  "Must be a duck," he said finally.

  "Duck be blowed! There aren't any ducks around here at this time ofyear. Perhaps-- I tell you what it is, Joe, it's a man's head! See?Some one's in swimming."

  "Queer place to swim, among all those rushes," Joe responded. "But Iguess you're right. We can tell for sure farther on."

  "Yes. Look; there he comes out. There's a sort of beach there,remember? He's walking out, and----"

  "If it doesn't look like Jack Weatherby, I'll eat my hat!" Joeinterrupted.

  "Weatherby!" echoed Tracy. "What's he doing down here? He's atpractise."

  "No, only the first squad from ten until eleven; he's in the second.That's who it is, Jack Weatherby."

  "Rot! It doesn't look the least bit like Weatherby to me. I tell youwhat, we'll go over and see."

  "Can you get there in this tea-kettle?" asked Joe doubtfully.

  "Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be; it's just a nice littlejounce."

  "All right, only remember that I'm not made of india-rubber."

  That is why Jack, when he rejoined Anthony in the shade of the old shednear-by, reported uneasily that an automobile, with two occupants, wascrossing the clay field from the road, and that it must be Gilberth's.Anthony finished dressing and then went to investigate. As he turnedthe corner a voice hailed him.

  "Hello, Tidball! Was that you, for goodness' sake?"

  "Hello!" answered Anthony. "Was what me?"

  "The chap we saw in the water a minute ago. I could have sworn it wasWeatherby," Joe replied.

  "I was in there," Anthony said. "Water's nice and warm down here."

  "Well, but how did you get dressed so quickly?" Joe went on,suspiciously. "Oh, you be blowed! It wasn't you we saw. It was JackWeatherby, wasn't it?"

  "Maybe it was. He's just dressing himself around the corner there."Anthony saw that further attempt at concealing Jack's identity wasidle. During the conversation Tracy and Anthony had not noticed eachother's presence save by perfunctory nods.

  "Going back?" asked Joe.

  "Yes, as soon as Jack gets his clothes on."

  "Well, get in here and go with us, can't you? There's lots of room, eh,Tracy?"

  Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony's call, and his friendwas unaware that relations between the two were somewhat strained. Joewondered at the lack of hospitality displayed.

  "Oh, I guess we'd rather walk," Anthony answered, smiling a bit behindhis spectacles.

  "Nonsense, you'll get in here, both of you, and Tracy will show youwhat he calls 'squirting through space.' Hello, Jack!"

  Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and towels and somewhatred of face. He feared that Joe and Gilberth had guessed his secret.

  "Hello!" he answered. "Hello, Gilberth!" The latter returned hissalutation affably enough and Joe exclaimed:

  "You're a couple of nice mud-hens, aren't you? Why don't you pick out adecent place when you want to bathe? Come on and get in; we'll take youback."

  Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony. The latter'sexpression gave no clue to his wishes, and so, in the end, Jackassented, and the two crowded into the carriage, and Tracy started backacross the field toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten histroubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball to finalexaminations, grew lively, even Gilberth finding his tongue at last.There was no hurry about getting back, he said, and so they crossedwestward to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road underneath,sped homeward at a rate that took Jack's breath away and made Anthonyhold tightly to so much of the seat as he could find. They turnedinto Main Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the towerof College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated a quarter ofeleven.

  "I guess I'd better get out at William Street," said Jack, "or I'll belate at the field. Will you come along, Anthony?"

  "Can't. I've got a recitation and I've already cut once this week."

  "Once?" cried Gilberth. "Great Scott, I've cut four times!"

  "Well, you'd better quit it, Tracy," Joe remonstrated, "or they'll beputting you on probation, and then we'll be beaten, sure as fate!" Heturned to Jack. "Come to the room with me an
d then I'll go out withyou."

  "You're not allowed out there this morning," cried Tracy. "Hanson saidI was to keep you away until the game."

  "You can't," Joe replied quietly. "Besides, I'm feeling fine now, andit would give me the horrors to have to mope around the college whileyou fellows were enjoying yourselves."

  "Enjoying ourselves!" Tracy grumbled. "You've got a queer notion ofenjoyment. If you think I'm happy when Hanson is throwing it into mebecause I don't hold my bat the way they did when he was a boy, you'reaway off, Joe."

  "Well, I'm going out, anyhow," Joe answered. Suddenly, just as theyreached the corner of the yard, he turned to Anthony. "I say, Tidball,I wish you'd tell me what you two were doing at the Cove. I--I've got areason for wanting to know."

  Jack shot an admonitory glance at his friend, but Anthony didn'tsee it; perhaps he didn't want to. He looked gravely back at Joe andreplied:

  "All right, Perkins, I'll tell you. I was teaching Jack how to swim."

  "Anthony!" cried Jack, the color flooding into his cheeks. "Youpromised!"

  "No, I didn't promise, Jack," he answered calmly. "I know you didn'twant me to tell, but I think the thing's been a secret long enough."

  Gilberth was frowning intensely and studying the clear road ahead,as though he expected a stone wall to rise out of the ground at anyinstant and bar his progress. Joe was looking curiously at Jack'saverted face.

  "King was right," he said softly. Then, "Why in blazes didn't youexplain, Jack? Why didn't you tell the fellows you couldn't swim?"

  But Jack only shook his head without turning.

  "Pride," said Anthony. "Jack's full of it. I wanted to tell what thetrouble was the next day, but he wouldn't listen to it." He reachedaround and placed one big, ungainly hand on Jack's shoulder. "He's anidiot, Jack is, but he's _all right_!"

  Gilberth swung the machine over to the sidewalk, and stopped it infront of the north gate.

  "You'll have to get out here," he said gruffly. "I've got to take thisthing down to the stable. You might as well stay in, though, Tidball;I'm going your way. So long, you fellows."

  The automobile whizzed off again down Main Street, and disappearedaround the corner of College Place. Joe and Jack watched it out ofsight and then turned together and passed through the gate, bendingtheir steps toward Sessons Hall at the upper end of the quadrangle. Forthe first part of the way neither spoke. Then Joe put his hand throughthe other's arm and bent forward smilingly until he could see Jack'sflushed face.

  "You're an awful fool, Jack," he said affectionately.