CHAPTER XIX
THE HOME RUN
Events were crowded thickly into the next week. Gardiner returnedto the Academy on Monday and shook up football affairs in a waythat surprised even Paddy. On Tuesday two more graduates put in anappearance on the campus and with most terrifying scowls proceeded towork miracles, one with the sprinters and the other with the baseballcandidates. The latter coach reached the scene none too soon, for thenext day Shrewsburg sent down an aggregation of hard-hitting younggentlemen who had already earned a reputation that reached up and downthe valley. Most of the fellows turned out for the game and cheeredlustily for the crimson-stockinged youngsters, but despite the supportof the grand stand Hillton put up a ragged kind of ball, and at the endof the sixth inning the wearers of the green S were five runs to thegood and their earning capacity seemed still unlimited.
Wayne and Don and Dave saw most of the contest from where the formerwas putting Perkins over the high hurdles in a fraction over recordtime. Later they adjourned to the stand and Don took a hand inthe cheering with encouraging results. Hillton went to bat in thefirst of the seventh amid a loud chorus of cheers only to retire inone-two-three order. Then the coach asserted authority and a newpitcher went into the box, a lower-middle-class boy, Forest by name,who had gained some success with his class nine the preceding spring.He had a fresh, smiling, and ingenuous countenance, and he deliverednice straight balls that went so fast that the first two Shrewsburgbatters went out on strikes and the third one reached first basethrough the medium of a short grounder that seemed to belong to nobodyin particular, and for which nobody tried. But the side was out inthe next moment, for the fourth batsman struck up a nice clean flythat settled cosily into the right-fielder’s hands, and the crimsonstockings trotted in under a salvo of applause.
“Say, where’s Paddy?” asked Wayne, while the first man at bat wasrecovering his equilibrium after striking unsuccessfully at a deceptivedrop. Dave grinned.
“Paddy’s busy. Gardiner’s got every candidate, new and old, back of thegym teaching them to pass. And Gardiner’s so full of new ideas thatPaddy’s head is in a whir all the time. I fear he’ll have brain feversoon.”
“There’ll be two of us,” said Don feelingly, “unless Middleton goes outof training. He knocked over every hurdle to-day except the last three.I don’t understand how he came to miss those.”
“Side’s out,” interrupted Wayne. “This is the last of the eighth, isn’tit?”
“Yes, let’s get the fellows to cheering.” Don got up and encouraged thestand to renewed efforts, and the Shrewsburg captain went to bat.
“Twelve to seven,” muttered Dave. “I guess we don’t want this game.”
“Nine’s awful rocky this year,” said Don. “But I’ll bet Kirk will teach’em something before the first St. Eustace game.”
“Good work, Gray!” yelled Wayne, as the Hillton first baseman captureda liner hot off the end of the Shrewsburg captain’s stick.
“Is that Carl Gray?” asked Dave.
“Yes; I guess he’ll get on to the team. He’s made two of the seven runsso far.”
Once more the Shrewsburg batters failed to make a safe hit, and Forestgot a good hearty cheer all to himself as he threw down the ball andwent to the bench. It was the first of the ninth now and the hometeam’s last chance to tie the score or win, either a difficult task.But the cheering became continuous, and the first man at bat, obeyinginstructions, waited patiently for his base and got it on four balls.Then a batting streak came to the Hillton players, and the next fellowat the plate struck the first ball delivered safely just inside ofthe third baseman. The next batter also found the ball and knocked ithotly to shortstop, who fumbled it; and the bases were full. But theShrewsburg pitcher settled down to work and the following Hillton manwent out on strikes. And then happened a most unfortunate incidentfor Shrewsburg. The coachers were busy back of first and third bases,and the Shrewsburg pitcher allowed the noise to worry him a little,just enough to turn an inshoot into a catastrophe. The ball struckthe batsman on the hip, and he limped to first, the men on basesmoved up, and Hillton scored her eighth run, amid quickly suppressedapplause from the seats. The pitcher lost his nerve then and delivereda straight ball, shoulder high, which lit on the center of the batand went sailing just over his head, bringing another runner in andreaching first too late to put the batsman out. The bases were stillfull, with but one out, and the grand stand was wild with excitement.The next fellow at the plate, perhaps determining to profit by thepitcher’s collapse, allowed the first two balls to go by unnoticed.Both were strikes. He looked worried for an instant as he tapped theplate with his stick and again faced the pitcher. The third deliverywas a ball, and the batsman smiled.
“Hit it, Jim!” shrieked a friend in the audience, but Jim merelybroadened his smile into a grin, and the umpire called “Two balls!”Again he remained motionless. “Three balls!” Fellows on the seats beganto breathe hard and lean restively forward. The Shrewsburg pitcherglanced around the bases, wiped the stained leather sphere pensivelyon his gray trousers, shot his hands upward, and sent a straight ballwaist-high over the plate. The batsman tossed aside his stick and tooka step toward first base.
“Striker’s out!” called the umpire.
A howl of derision went up from the watchers as the youth turned backand walked toward the seat with a pained expression on his face.“Idiot!” commented Dave.
But there was yet a chance. A three-bagger would tie the score. Aslightly built boy selected a bat and took his place at the plate.Simultaneously the pitcher turned, waved his hand, and the fieldersscattered farther away. Some one started a cheer.
“’Rah-rah-rah, ’Rah-rah-rah, ’Rah-rah-rah, Gray!”
“There’s your friend, Wayne,” said Dave. “Hope he’ll swipe out a homerun.”
“So do I. But no such luck, I’m afraid.”
The pitcher was evidently afraid of Gray’s prowess with the bat andwent to work skillfully to deceive him by all his arts. But Gray wascool and used the best of judgment. The first ball sped slowly by andresolved itself into a wide outcurve. “One ball!” droned the umpire.The catcher protested loudly, indignantly. Then he marched forward andheld a whispered conversation with the pitcher, while the audiencelaughed derisively.
“No secrets!” bawled a small junior.
The catcher returned, and, leaning far to the right, smote his glovedisconcertingly. But Gray refused to glance around or lose his head.The pitcher’s wonted skill and coolness had returned to him. The men onbases were playing far off, ready to take advantage of anything in theshape of a hit. Up went the pitcher’s hands, forward shot his arm, andGray leaped desperately backward.
“Strike!” called the umpire.
Gray looked disconcerted for an instant. Then he tapped the plateresolutely and again faced the pitcher. The next ball was far out andthe boy at bat made no offer at it.
“Two balls!”
Again the chap with the great green S decorating his jersey wentthrough his contortions, and the sphere sped forward. Gray struck atit with all his force and spun around on his heel. The catcher droppedto his knee and picked the ball from the dust. It was a most deceptivedrop and the waiting batsmen on the bench nodded their heads inapproval.
“Two strikes!”
A little spot of deeper red shone on Gray’s cheek now and he moved hisstick a bit nervously behind his shoulder. The pitcher stepped backinto his box, nodded to a sign from the catcher, and let drive. Thenthere was a sharp report as Gray’s bat struck the speeding sphere, thegrand stand was on its feet, the three men on bases raced home almostin a bunch, and Gray was rounding first base at a desperate pace!
High and far sped the ball. The left-fielder was racing back down thefield. Would he catch it? Pandemonium reigned in the grand stand. Wayneand the others were on their feet, shouting wildly and waving theircaps. Gray reached second base, cast a glance toward left field, andcame on. The fielder turned almost under the ball and reached
upward,leaped back a step, clutched wildly, and fell. The ball, tipping hisfingers just beyond his reach, dropped to earth. And Gray, panting andhappy, crossed the home plate into the arms of his exultant friends.
The score was now in Hillton’s favor by one run: thirteen to twelve.The half was soon over. The next man struck a short grounder and wasout at first. And Shrewsburg went to bat, desperate resolve writtenlarge on every face.
“Say, that friend Gray of yours is a great little boy!” exclaimed Dave,as he pulled his cap on again and pounded his feet in time to therefrain of Hilltonians, which the audience had started to chant.
“That’s the finest home run that’s ever been seen on this field sinceI’ve been in school,” said Don. “And it was needed, too. A home run intime saves the nine.”
“I hope it’ll save this nine,” laughed Wayne. “But those chaps look asthough they meant business. One run will tie us; two will beat us.”
But fortune proved a friend to Hillton, and Gray’s wonderful hit savedthe day, for Forest worked like a veteran pitcher and struck out thefirst two Shrewsburg men in short order. The next batter wrote finisto the game by sending a high foul into the first baseman’s gloves,and the grand stand was emptied of its throng. Shrewsburg accepteddefeat manfully, answered the Hillton cheer with one equally hearty,bundled itself into the waiting coach, and took its departure with muchgood-natured defiant flaunting of green banners. Gray, by one brilliantstroke, had achieved a much-coveted position on the nine and was aschool hero for many weeks.
The following day Wayne again sped over the mile while Professor Beckheld the watch on him. But something was wrong. The professor gave himthe result with ill-concealed displeasure.
“Five minutes twenty-three seconds. That’ll never do. You must cut offfifteen seconds, Gordon, if you expect to make the team. What’s thetrouble?”
But Wayne couldn’t tell. He had done his best, he thought, and assertedpositively that he could run the distance again without feeling it,which feat was naturally not allowed.
“Take a rest to-morrow,” counseled the professor, “so that you’ll bein good condition for Saturday. For I’ll tell you frankly that if youdon’t mend that time in the handicaps you’ll find yourself out of it.”
And Wayne jogged back to the gymnasium feeling very forlorn anddiscouraged. But after his bath and rubbing his spirits returned andhe vowed to open the professor’s eyes next time. He had entered forboth the half and the mile, the former on Professor Beck’s advice.“For,” said the latter, “the races are far apart, and you’ll get overthe effects of the half before the mile is called. And the half maylimber you up for the longer distance.”
Wayne spent the next day in rest. Don, too, was idle, as were most ofthe boys who were to participate in the handicaps, and he and Waynetook a short walk along the river in the afternoon and returned atdusk in time for an hour’s study before supper. The handicaps wereannounced that evening, and, as is usual in like cases, there was somedissatisfaction expressed by contestants. Wayne found that he was to beallowed twenty yards in the half mile and was to run from scratch inthe mile, and was quite satisfied. One thing that told its own storywas the announcement that Merton would receive an allowance of eightfeet in the hammer throw.
“Poor old Dave!” said Don. “That’ll cut him up like anything. I supposeit means that Hardy has turned out to be a better man, for you see he’sdown for scratch. Hello! they’ve given Middleton four seconds in theone-hundred-and-twenty-yard hurdles; well, he ought to come somewherenear winning with that allowance.”
Wayne went to bed that night filled with determination to win on themorrow. He was not the sort of lad that allows the thought of comingevents to keep him awake, and he was soon fast asleep; nerves werepractically unknown to Wayne. But his brain proved more troublesome andcontinued its labors after the body had gone to rest, with the resultthat his slumbers were disturbed by dreams in which he seemed to betrying to win the mile race with Professor Beck perched like an old manof the sea on his shoulders, and Don continually thrusting hurdles inhis path.
For the Honor of the School: A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport Page 19
