Fast Nine; or, A Challenge from Fairfield

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER XV.

  LIL ARTHA PLANTS HIS GARDEN IN DEEP CENTER.

  "CRACK!"

  "He did it!" yelled the Hickory Ridge fellows, as Toby started on a runfor the first sack, while Bastian was chasing the ball in short right.

  "Bully boy, Toby! You're IT!" shrieked an excited rooter, jumping up anddown as he swung his hat, and ending by dancing a hornpipe, to theamusement of some of the crowd, though a disgusted Cramertown fellowloudly advised him to "hire a hall."

  "Now Lil Artha, you know what to do!" called a fellow near by.

  "Does he!" echoed Larry Billings, waving his hand at the speaker. "Well,just keep your eye on him, that's all. Oh, it's good-by to that ball.It's going over into the next county!"

  The tall captain of the Hickory Ridge nine stood at the plate in whatsome people considered a careless attitude.

  "Why, he doesn't seem to care whether he hits the ball or not," theydeclared. "I think Matt Tubbs ought to have a snap with that bean pole!"

  But every batter has his favorite way of waiting for the ball. Someswing their bats nervously, and often fail to recover in time; othersstand there like statues, with every nerve contracted, and their eyesfixed on the pitcher.

  Lil Artha did neither. He chopped at the tuft of short grass near therubber, nodded at Tubbs, and then slouched there in his ungainlyattitude. But Matt Tubbs was not deceived in the least. He knew that inLil Artha he had the most dangerous batter in the entire nine to contendwith. His movements were like lightning, once he started.

  One, two, three balls followed in rapid succession.

  "Hey, he's afraid of Lil Artha! he's goin' to give him his base!" arosethe shout.

  It looked very much that way, and Lil Artha himself feared that he wasabout to be cheated out of his chance for that little garden beyondright center. Those agile Fairfield fellows must be thinking that tripleplays grow on bushes; and the pitcher was hoping to have another pulledoff.

  "Smash!"

  "Oh, what a hit!"

  "He leaned way out, and took a wide curve right on the nose!"

  "Look at her go, would you!"

  "A home run hit, fellows; bully for Lil Artha! He's all to the good!"

  "What would he do if he was twice as tall, hey, tell me that?" demandeda disgusted Fairfield backer, as he watched the two figures careeringaround the circuit.

  "Watch him run, boys! Why, he could get home ahead of Toby. There theycome in, neck and neck!"

  "But where's the ball?" demanded one fellow.

  "McDowd is chasing it yet. He'll get it after a while. There never wassuch a long hit made on these grounds, that's dead sure. It was apeach!"

  Two runs looked pretty big in such a bitterly contested game.

  "Even if we don't get another, that ought to win, if Elmer can keep uphis fine work," Mr. Garrabrant declared, as he sat in the midst of hisboys, and shook hands with the tall panting first baseman as he droppeddown.

  "Then we've just got to work to hold them, see?" said Red, who waspicking out a hat, as Chatz had stepped cut to the rubber.

  "Oh, don't got that notion in your heads, boys," laughed Elmer. "Perhapswe can add a few more for good measure. Matt may be rattled after thosetwo screamers. Try and hit her out, Red."

  But Matt Tubbs instead of being upset by his misfortunes seemed betterthan ever. He easily disposed of Chatz; and while Red did get on firstthrough an error of the shortstop, who threw wide, he died there. Tyshot up a zigzag foul that Ballinger managed to just grasp, afterstaggering back and forth like a drunken man in the effort to judge itseccentric motions; and Matty's offering was taken by Cook in left field.

  So the seventh began. The Fairfield rooters, faithful to their team,began to call out encouraging words, such as the "lucky seventh."

  McDowd started out well. He drew a pass by refusing to try to take theslow one that just failed to cross over the rubber. Then he stolesecond, though Mark got the ball down to Red in good style; but a greatslide saved the runner, according to the umpire, who was on the spot.There was no protest against the decision, even though most of theHickory Ridge players thought the man was fairly out. They were much toogame to show that they could not take their medicine when the decisionwent against their side.

  Elmer put on a little more speed.

  "Hey!" called out Mulligan as he stood there and heard a strike called:"what're ye thryin' to do wid me, Elmer? Sure that wan had whiskers onit: I heard 'em brush past me leg. Thry it again, me honey, and see whatI do."

  He tried to bunt the next one, but made a failure of the job; for Elmerhad readily guessed that such must be his orders, with that man onsecond.

  So Mulligan passed away, being fed one of the teasers that he tried tomeet by stepping forward, but without the slightest success.

  Next came Ballinger, the catcher. Like most men behind the bat,accustomed to seeing all manner of balls coming toward men throughoutthe whole game, Ballinger was a fairly good man with the stick. Hebelieved he could pick out a good one, and do something worth while.

  His best was a high fly that Ty gathered in away out in deep center; butafter the ball settled in his hands McDowd managed to make third, againby a slide, at which he seemed particularly clever.

  It was now up to Matt Tubbs. Adopting the tactics of his rival when LilArtha was at bat, Elmer sought to pass the hard-hitting pitcher of theFairfields. He had given two balls when Matt reached out, and took onethat was intended as a wide curve.

  It shot past Matty near second, and went buzzing out into the field.Even then it was tagged with so much speed that before it could be sentin home McDowd had scored, and Tubbs was nestled on the second bag.

  Then arose a fearful roar. If only Wagner had found his batting eye hewould surely send his captain home with the tying run.

  "Lucky seven, Felix! You know what we want! Everybody holler!"

  Such a terrible racket as ensued. Of course part of this came fromexcitement; but there was also a desire to put heart in the Fairfieldplayers, as well as to rattle Elmer.

  He showed no sign of going to pieces. His manner would indicate that hewas as cool as a cucumber. Wagner was dancing around the home plate,trying to tantalize the opposing pitcher.

  "Strike one!" called the umpire, as a good one whizzed past.

  "Get up against it, Felix. Quit your kiddin', and do business. It onlytakes one to bring Matt in!" shouted a player.

  Wagner now toed the mark, and prepared to strike. The shouts died awayas quickly as they had sprung into existence. All eyes were on thepitcher, and the lad who stood there, lazily swinging his bat forwardand back in regular rhythm, as he endeavored to gauge the comingdelivery of the ball.

  Judgment at such a critical time has to come with the rapidity oflightning. In the flash of an eye the batter has to decide whether it isa drop, an out curve, an inward shoot, a straight, swift one over therubber, or a teaser that will apparently start out well, only to hold upin mid-air, and leave him to strike long before the ball gets withinreaching distance.

  Wagner waited and struck at a slow drop. What was more, he hit it, too,a vicious tap that electrified the entire crowd. Again those who weresitting down jumped up to see what had happened. They evidently expectedto see one of the fielders running like mad after the ball. Nothing ofthe sort.

  Red simply threw out, and touched Matt Tubbs as he tried to get back tosecond in great haste, after realizing that the ball had been shotstraight into the hands of short.

  It was, of course, a double play, unassisted. And tumultuous cheersfollowed as the Hickory Ridge boys came trotting in from the field.Nothing would do but that Red must take off his cap, and thusacknowledge the fact that the fickle populace wished to do him honor.

  In their half of the seventh the Hickory Ridge fellows made another hardbid for a run. Elmer, the first man up, drove the first ball pitched outin right for a single. Mark duplicated the performance, only he seemedrather to fancy the left garden for his planting.

  Two on bases
, and none out! Catcalls and groans marked the disgust ofthe rooters who wanted to see Fairfield win, while loud cheers told theclub at bat that their friends expected them to add to the score thisinning.

  But that wizard Tubbs was at it again. He mowed Ted down without mercy.The batter afterward declared that the ball went past him with wings onit; and that he couldn't make sure whether it passed over the rubber ortwo feet outside.

  Toby had been fairly lucky in meeting the offerings of Matt; but he,too, fell a victim. Meanwhile the fellows on bases, much as they wantedto engineer a double steal, found not the slightest chance to do so,with this clockwork going on between the pitcher and catcher.

  Lil Artha was up again.

  Would he duplicate his previous performance, and send out a homer?McDowd evidently feared as much, to judge from the way he went back. ButLil Artha fooled them all, for he dropped a little one between first andsecond, and while nobody got home on the hit, he managed to gain firstthrough the fumble.

  Chatz had a glorious opportunity presented to him. A hit would mean twomore tallies. Chatz tried his best, and connected with a good one. Withthe crack of the bat the crowd uttered a thrilling shout. Then they sawPoole, playing just off first, gather the ball in with astonishingcleverness, and leap for his bag.

  In the eighth it was just one, two, three for Fairfield. Elmer bad themguessing all the time with his curves, his change to a swift one, andthen that terrible teaser that only one fellow had as yet managed toconnect with, and that to his side's undoing.

  Nor were the Hickory Ridge boys able to add more runs in their half,four batters only facing Tubbs.

  The ninth opened. Unless Fairfield could score one run to tie, the gamewould end then and there, the Hickory Ridge fellows having no need to goin again.

  It was a tense situation when, with one man on second, and but a singlefellow out, Elmer stood up to his work, smiling, cool and satisfied thathe could do it, with the fine assistance he was receiving from hisbacking.

  In vain did the next batter try to connect. One little foul was the besthe was able to do. That brought it to the last one, who chanced to bethe hard-hitting catcher, Ballinger.

  A dead silence fell upon the crowd as Elmer began to feed him slow ones.Once Ballinger struck, and was greeted by a whoop from the excitedHickory Ridge rooters, anxiously watching every move. The next one hedeclined to touch; and lo, it went over the plate for a second strike.Rendered desperate finally, and seeing still a third floater comingsailing wabblingly along, Ballinger stepped forward and made a viciousswing for it, only to have his bat pass through thin air.

  Then arose a tumultuous whoop. The game was over, and the score stoodtwo to one in favor of Hickory Ridge.

  While the shouts of the multitude were still ringing out, Elmer madestraight for the rival pitcher, and thrust out his hand.

  "Bully for you, Matt," he said. "It was so even that one little thingsettled it--that home run hit. And if you haven't won this game, Matt,it's plain to be seen you've won another that counts for much more. Isay good luck to the scouts of Fairfield. They're going to make thingshum around here, I guess."

  "That's nice of you, Elmer," returned Matt, quietly, yet with a gleam ofsatisfaction in his eye. "Somebody's got to lose, and next time it maybe you fellers. But I reckon as how Fairfield people knows by now thatthings has changed some since these here games used to break up in arow. Never again. We're in this scout business for keeps now, and yougot to look out, Elmer, if you don't want us to beat you when the twotroops get together for tests."