CHAPTER XXIV
WEATHERBY'S INNING
"Good morning, Mr. Tidball!"
Anthony, making his way briskly down Main Street, raised his headat the greeting, and glanced across the street. Professor White,immaculate in his Sunday attire of black frock coat, gray trousers,and silk hat, was picking his way gingerly between the little puddlesleft by the night's shower. Anthony returned the salutation, and waitedfor the other to join him. Then they went on together down the quietstreet in the shade of the elms. The village seemed deserted. It was anhour after noon, and staid, respectable Centerport was dining on allthe indigestible luxuries that comprise the New England Sunday dinner.As for the college--well, the college was at the depot awaiting thearrival of the 2.12 train.
"Going down to welcome the victors?" asked the professor gaily.
"Yes," answered Anthony. "And I guess you are too. Sort of late, aren'twe?"
He produced his big gold watch, removed it tenderly from its pouch,and saw that it announced eight minutes after the hour. The professornodded, and they mended their pace.
"You didn't go down, did you?" asked the latter.
"No, I wanted to, but couldn't afford it. But we got the news atButler's by innings. We had quite a celebration all to ourselves beforethe rest of you got home."
"Didn't keep you from taking a hand in the bonfire last night, though,did it?" laughed the professor.
"No, I guess every one went out to the field. It must have been aninteresting game, professor."
"It was. But it was rather conducive to heart-disease toward the end.We came pretty near to being outplayed, and a good deal nearer tobeing beaten. When Robinson had the bases full in the ninth and theirleft-fielder rapped out that liner--well, I shut my eyes and held mybreath! I didn't see Weatherby make his catch; when I looked he wasthrowing to third. Well, it was great, simply great!"
"Yes, but I didn't quite understand what it was Jack did. If he hadn'tcaught the ball the other chaps would have made three runs, isn't thatit?"
"Well, two runs anyway, three probably; you see, the bases were full,and that hit was good for a two-bagger, I think, if Weatherby hadn'tgot his hands on it. It was a hot one, too, and 'way over his head.As it was, he put out the batsman by catching the ball, tagged secondbefore the runner from that base could get back, and then threw tothird and put out the man there. You see, a runner is required to holdhis base until a fly has either been caught or has touched the ground.Well, Robinson thought Devlin's hit was a safe one; it surely lookedlike it; and every one ran. Then when Weatherby caught it they had toget back to their bases; but they couldn't. Condit was almost home. Itwas very pretty. Triple plays like that have been made before, but theydon't happen very often. And then the difficulty of Weatherby's catchadded to the brilliancy of the thing. Well, he'll be a hero now as longas yesterday's game is remembered."
"I'm mighty glad," said Anthony quietly. "Jack's had sort of a hardtime of it, take it all 'round. I'm glad things look better for nextyear."
"Oh, he can have pretty near anything he wants after this," laughedthe professor. "I'm quite as well pleased as you are, Tidball. There'sone thing, however--" He hesitated. "We can't get around the fact thatWeatherby's been largely to blame for his own unhappiness, Tidball.We're both friends of his, and we can afford to recognize the truth. Itwas his duty, to himself and more especially to others, to put himselfright. He should have explained why he apparently made no effort togo to the rescue of that boy in the river. It looked bad; I saw thewhole thing, and to all appearances it was just a case of cowardice.I was mistaken; and I said what was in my mind, which was a stillgreater mistake. But don't you see, Tidball, he should have spoken upand said that he couldn't swim. None would have blamed him then. Hehad no right to allow others to misjudge him. Then, too, his attitudewasn't of the kind to attract friends to him. From what I can make outhe appears to have taken umbrage because the fellows didn't seek himand make his acquaintance when he first came, and subsequently repelledevery advance by his apparent indifference and self-sufficiency. Itwas--unfortunate."
"Yes, I guess you're right. But I can't altogether blame Jack, for Iknow just how sensitive he is. Sometime he'll get over it, but it'ssomething you can't change at once. Wasn't that the whistle?"
"I didn't hear anything, but if you like we'll sprint a bit."
And they did, reaching the station just as the train rolled in, andthe victorious baseball team and attendants descended into the densethrong of students to an accompaniment of wild cheers. For a momentthe players were swallowed from sight. Then they came into view againon the shoulders of privileged friends, and were borne to the threehacks that were to take them in triumph up to the college. Jack caughta brief glimpse of Anthony's tall form as he was borne, swaying andbobbing, across the platform, and waved a hand to him. Then, with thecheering crowd jostling and shoving about the carriages, the journeywas begun.
Jack found himself in the second of the hacks, sandwiched betweenBillings and Knox. Facing them, on the front seat, sat King, Motter,and Showell. As they turned into the Square, the horses prancingexcitedly because of the crowd and the noise, Jack caught a glimpseof the carriage ahead and of Joe Perkins leaning out to shake handswith the nearest of his admirers. There was no attempt at conversationbetween Jack and his companions. Even had the tumult allowed it theywere all too sleepy and tired to talk much.
Training had ended for the season with the ending of the game. They hadremained in Collegetown as Robinson's guests, and had been dined, and,later, had attended a performance at the little Opera House in companywith their hosts. After that they had returned to the hotel, assembledin Joe's room, and chosen a new captain. The honor had fallen to King.There had been no dissenting voice. King, although only a junior nextyear, was already a veteran player, having captained his school teambefore coming to Erskine, and having played two years with the varsity.Jack was pleased. He liked King better than any of the fellows whowould be eligible for the next year's nine. And King, he believed,liked him.
Jack forgot the cheers and the singing and the enthusiastic throngsthat filled the sidewalks and almost surrounded the carriage, andclosing his eyes, leaned back and gave himself over to thought. Inthree days the term would come to an end, and he would go home for thesummer, a summer which promised to be one of the pleasantest of hislife. Anthony was to visit him in July for a week, and later, if allwent well, he was to spend a few days in Jonesboro, and finish hisnatational education with surf bathing. Then, in September, Erskineonce more. But what a difference there would be! He would return tocollege to find fellows not merely willing but eager to claim hisacquaintance, to call him friend. The stigma of cowardice would nolonger be placed upon him; rather he would be looked upon as a hero,as the one who had saved the college from defeat.
Already he had tasted the intoxicating draft of popularity. Ever sincethe crowd had poured on to the field the day before he had never for aninstant been allowed to forget that the college looked upon him as onewhom it was a pleasure to honor. The time when he had read "Coward!" ineach averted face seemed very dim and far. And yet the vindication ofwhich he had dreamed then, a vindication of his physical courage, hadnot come. Well, perhaps next year----
He came to earth with a start. King had leaped to his feet, and wasstaring excitedly down the street. The tumult had changed from joyouscheers to cries of alarm. The crowd about the carriage was franticallystruggling toward the sidewalks and above its voice sounded thepounding of hoofs on the hard road. Jack turned and looked. Behindthem, sweeping down the narrow street between the fleeing throngs,swayed the third hack, the horses, frightened beyond control, plungingforward with outstretched heads. On the box the driver tugged vainlyat the lines and shouted warnings to the crowd. A moment or two and acollision was inevitable.
Their own driver had heard and seen; the hack sprang forward, and Kingtumbled into Jack's arms. At the same instant Showell struggled to hisfeet with pale, drawn face, and, with an inarticulate groan
of terror,threw open the carriage door and leaped blindly into the road. Over andover he rolled in the path of the oncoming team. Jack pushed King fromhim, and in a moment was balancing himself on the sill, clinging tothe woodwork beside him. Some one strove to get by him, and he pushedhim back.
"Stay where you are," he shouted.
Then he jumped.
As he did so he saw dimly the crowd crushing back against the shops,panic-stricken, struggling for safety. He landed and kept his feet, andeven before the momentum had passed had swung himself about, and wasracing back down the street toward the motionless form of Showell andthe plunging horses. As he ran there was no fear in his heart; ratheran exultant consciousness of power; here was the opportunity to wipeout forever the stigma of cowardice.
"It's my inning at last!" he thought gladly.
If it has taken long in the telling, yet in the doing it was the matterof a moment. He reached the inert body of Showell, and, with desperatestrength, sent it rolling toward the sidewalk. Then the horses wereupon him. With a gasp for breath he leaped forward, arms outstretched,as it seemed into the path of death.
With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.]
But brief as had been his moment of preparation, he had not misjudged.His clutching hands caught at rein and mane, and he was swept off hisfeet and borne onward. Then his left hand found a place beside theright, and with all his weight back of the bit and the horse's hoofsgrazing his legs at every plunge, he clung there desperately withclosed eyes. For an instant there was no diminishment of the pace; thenthe horse's head came down, and Jack's feet again touched earth. Plungeafter plunge followed; a confusion of cries and cheers filled his ears;the team veered to the left, and his feet felt the sidewalk beneaththem. There was a crash as the heavy pole splintered against one ofthe granite posts of the college fence, and Jack, striking violentlyagainst something that drove the last breath from his body, loosed hishold and fell backward into darkness.
* * * * *
When he opened his eyes again, a minute later, he was lying, weak,shaken, and gasping, just inside the fence, his swimming head supportedon the knee of Professor White. About him excited yet kindly faceslooked down, while on the sidewalk the trembling horses were beingunharnessed from the carriage. He strove to sit up, but the professorrestrained him.
"Hurt, Weatherby?" he asked.
Jack stretched himself carefully, shook his head, and struggled into asitting posture.
"No," he gasped, "all right; breath--knocked out--that's all."
"Well, sit still a minute." Jack obeyed, and closed his eyes. Abouthim were low voices and whispers, and his name being repeated over andover. Then he became aware of a sudden commotion, and opened his eyesto see Anthony pushing his way through the ring.
"I found him," he gasped. "He's coming right over. How is he?" Hedropped to his knees at Jack's side, sending an anxious glance at theprofessor.
"Nothing broken; just out of breath."
Anthony seized Jack's hand and held it tightly, his broad mouth workingyet unable to voice his words. Jack grinned up into his face.
"You're a sight, Anthony," he said. "You've gone and lost your specs.Help me up." The professor nodded. Anthony seized him about theshoulders and lifted him to his feet. Jack tried his legs tentatively,and found them apparently sound. Then he turned to Anthony.
"Showell?" he asked anxiously.
"He's all right, Jack; just stunned a bit from the fall."
"Take him over to his room, Tidball," said Professor White. "I'll sendthe doctor when he comes."
The throng made way for them. As they passed through, Anthonysupporting Jack as carefully as though the latter were a basket ofeggs, the crowd found its voice. Jack glanced into some of the facesand read therein a new respect and liking. He dropped his eyes, thecolor flooding into his cheeks, and hurried on. The throng grewmomentarily. In front it broke and parted, and Joe Perkins and TracyGilberth confronted them.
"All right, Jack?" panted Joe.
"Of course I am," Jack muttered sheepishly.
"All right, then. Up you go, old man!" Before he could resist he foundhimself on the shoulders of Anthony and Joe, with Tracy supporting himbehind.
"Let me down, you idiots!" he pleaded.
But they paid no heed. The individual voicing of approval suddenlymerged into a confused cheering that grew and grew in volume untilJack's remonstrances were drowned beneath it. He clung to Anthony'shead, and tried to look as though he didn't mind, and only succeededin looking like a thief on the way to the stocks. Of late, he silentlymarveled, he seemed to be continually swaying about on fellows'shoulders!
Near the museum the chaos of sound took form and substance, and Jack,still somewhat confused and dizzy, found that he was bobbing along intime to the loud, deep, and measured refrain of "_Weatherby! Weatherby!Weatherby!_"
THE END
Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball Page 24
