BREWSTER'S DEBUT
I
The gong clanged, the last man sprang aboard, and the car trundledaway to the accompaniment of a final lusty cheer from the crowd whichstill lingered in front of the hotel. Then a corner was turned, and thelast long-drawn "_Er-r-rskine!_" was cut short by intercepting walls.The throngs were streaming out to the field where, on the smooth greendiamond, the rival nines of Robinson and Erskine were to meet in thedeciding game of the season. For a while the car with its dozen or sopassengers followed the crowds, but presently it swung eastward towardthe railroad, and then made its way through a portion of Collegetown,which, to one passenger at least, looked far from attractive.
Ned Brewster shared one of the last seats with a big leather bat-bag,and gave himself over to his thoughts. The mere fact of his presencethere in the special trolley-car as a substitute on the Erskine varsitynine was alone wonderful enough to keep his thoughts busy for a week.Even yet he had not altogether recovered from his surprise.
Ned had played the season through at center field on the freshman nine,and had made a name for himself as a batsman. On Thursday the freshmanteam had played its last game, had met with defeat, and had disbanded.Ned, trotting off the field, his heart bitter with disappointment atthe outcome of the final contest, had heard his name called, and hadturned to confront "Big Jim" Milford, the varsity captain.
"I wish you would report at the varsity table to-night, Brewster,"Milford had said. Then he had turned abruptly away, perhaps to avoidsmiling outright at the expression of bewilderment on the freshman'scountenance. Ned never was certain whether he had made any verbalresponse; but he remembered the way in which his heart had leaped intohis throat and stuck there, as well as the narrow escape he had hadfrom dashing his brains out against the locker-house, owing to thefact that he had covered most of the way thither at top speed. That hadbeen on Thursday; to-day, which was Saturday, he was a substitute onthe varsity, with a possibility--just that and no more--of playing fora minute or two against Robinson, and so winning his E in his freshmanyear, a feat accomplished but seldom!
Ned had been the only member of the freshman nine taken on the varsitythat spring. At first this had bothered him; there were two or threeothers--notably Barrett, the freshman captain--who were, in hisestimation, more deserving of the good fortune than he. But, strangeto say, it had been just those two or three who had shown themselveshonestly glad at his luck, while the poorest player on the nine hadloudly hinted at favoritism. Since Thursday night Ned had, of course,made the acquaintance of all the varsity men, and they had treated himas one of themselves. But they were all, with the single exception ofStilson, seniors and juniors, and Ned knew that a freshman is still afreshman, even if he does happen to be a varsity substitute. Hence heavoided all appearance of trying to force himself upon the others, andso it was that on his journey to the grounds he had only a bat-bag forcompanion.
The closely settled part of town was left behind now, and the carwas speeding over a smooth, elm-lined avenue. Windows held the brownbanners of Robinson, but not often did a dash of purple meet the gazeof the Erskine players. At the farther end of the car McLimmont andHousel and Lester were gathered about "Baldy" Simson, the trainer, andtheir laughter arose above the talk and whistling of the rest. Nearerat hand, across the aisle, sat "Lady" Levett, the big first-baseman.Ned wondered why he was called "Lady." There was nothing ladylikeapparent about him. He was fully six feet one, broad of shoulder,mighty of chest, deep of voice, and dark of complexion--a jovial,bellowing giant whom everybody liked. Beside Levett sat Page, the headcoach, and Hovey, the manager. Then there were Greene and CaptainMilford beyond, and across from them Hill and Kesner, both substitutes.In the seat in front of Ned two big chaps were talking together. Theywere Billings and Stilson, the latter a sophomore.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," Billings was saying. "If we lose I'll buyyou a dinner at the Elm Tree Monday night; if we win you do the samefor me."
"Oh, I don't bet!"
"Get out! That's fair, isn't it, Brownie?"
A little round-faced chap across the aisle nodded laughingly. His namewas Browne and he played short-stop. He wrote his name with an _e_, andso his friends gave him the full benefit of it.
"Yes, that's fair," said Browne. "We're bound to lose."
"Oh, what are you afraid of?" said Stilson.
"No; that's straight! We haven't much show; we can't hit Dithman."
"_You_ can't, maybe," jeered Stilson.
"I'll bet you can't either, my chipper young friend!"
"I'll bet I get a hit off him!"
"Oh, _one_!"
"Well, two, then. Come, now!"
"No; I won't bet," answered Browne, grinning. "If there's a prizeahead, there's no telling what you'll do; is there, Pete?"
"No; he might even make a run," responded Billings. "But it's going totake more than two hits to win this game," he went on, dropping hisvoice, "for I'll just tell you they're going to pound Hugh all over thefield."
"Well, what if they do get a dozen runs or so?" said Stilson. "Haven'twe got a mighty batter, imported especially for the occasion, to winout for us?"
"Whom do you mean?" asked Billings.
"I mean the redoubtable Mr. Brewster, of course--the freshman Joan ofArc who is to lead us to vict----"
"Not so loud," whispered Browne, glancing at Ned's crimsoning cheeks.
Stilson swung around and shot a look at the substitute, then turnedback grinning.
"Cleared off nicely, hasn't it?" he observed, with elaboratenonchalance.
Ned said to himself, "He's got it in for me because he knows that if Iplay it will be in his place."
The car slowed down with much clanging of gong, and pushed its waythrough the crowd before the entrance to the field. Then, with a finaljerk, it came to a stop. "All out, fellows!" cried Hovey; and Nedfollowed the others through the throng, noisy with the shouts of ticketand score-card venders, to the gate and dressing-room.
II
Ned sat on the bench. With him were Hovey, the manager, who waskeeping score, Hill and Kesner, substitutes like himself, and, at thefarther end, Simson, the trainer, and Page, the head coach. Page hadpulled his straw hat far over his eyes, but from under the brim he waswatching sharply every incident of the diamond, the while he talkedwith expressionless countenance to "Baldy." Back of them the grandstand was purple with flags and ribbons, but at a little distanceon either side the purple gave place to the brown of Robinson. Backof third base, at the west end of the stand, the Robinson Collegeband held forth brazenly at intervals, making up in vigor what itlacked in tunefulness. In front of the spectators the diamond spreaddeeply green, save where the base-lines left the dusty red-brownearth exposed, and marked with lines and angles of lime, which gleamedsnow-white in the afternoon sunlight. Beyond the diamond the fieldstretched, as smooth and even as a great velvet carpet, to a distantfence and a line of trees above whose tops a turret or tower here andthere indicated the whereabouts of town and college.
Ned had sat there on the bench during six innings, the sun burninghis neck and the dust from the batsman's box floating into his face.In those six innings he had seen Erskine struggle pluckily againstdefeat--a defeat which now, with the score 12-6 in Robinson's favor,hovered, dark and ominous, above her. Yet he had not lost hope; perhapshis optimism was largely due to the fact that he found it difficultto believe that Fate could be so cruel as to make the occasion of hisfirst appearance with the varsity team one of sorrow. He was onlyseventeen, and his idea of Fate was a kind-hearted, motherly oldsoul with a watchful interest in his welfare. Yet he was forced toacknowledge that Fate, or somebody, was treating him rather shabbily.The first half of the seventh was as good as over, and still he kickedhis heels idly beneath the bench. Page didn't seem to be even aware ofhis presence. To be sure, there were Hill and Kesner in the same box,but that didn't bring much comfort. Besides, any one with half an eyecould see that Stilson should have been taken off long ago; he hadn'tmade a single
hit, and already had three errors marked against him. Nedwondered how his name would look in the column instead of Stilson's,and edged along the bench until he could look over Hovey's shoulder.The manager glanced up, smiled in a perfunctory way, and credited theRobinson runner with a stolen base. Ned read the batting list again:
BILLINGS, r. f. GREENE, l. f. MILFORD, 2b., Capt. LESTER, p. BROWNE, ss. HOUSEL, c. MCLIMMONT, 3b. LEVETT, 1b. STILSON, c. f.
There was a sudden burst of applause from the seats behind, and ared-faced senior with a wilted collar balanced himself upon the railingand begged for "one more good one, fellows!" The first of the seventhwas at an end, and the Erskine players, perspiring and streaked withdust, trotted in. "Lady" Levett sank down on the bench beside Ned witha sigh, and fell to examining the little finger of his left hand,which looked very red, and which refused to work in unison with itscompanions.
"Hurt?" asked Ned.
"Blame thing's bust, I guess," said "Lady," disgustedly. "Oh, Baldy,got some tape there?"
The trainer, wearing the anxious air of a hen with one chicken, bustledup with his black bag, and Ned watched the bandaging of the damagedfinger until the sudden calling of his name by the head coach sent hisheart into his throat and brought him leaping to his feet with visionsof hopes fulfilled. But his heart subsided again in the instant, forwhat Page said was merely:
"Brewster, you go over there and catch for Greene, will you?" Andthen, turning again to the bench, "Kesner, you play left field nexthalf."
Ned picked up a catcher's mitt, and for the rest of the half caughtthe balls that the substitute pitcher sent him as he warmed up totake Lester's place. Greene didn't keep him so busy, however, that hecouldn't watch the game. Milford had hit safely to right field andhad reached second on a slow bunt by Lester. The wavers of the purpleflags implored little Browne to "smash it out!" But the short-stopnever found the ball, and Housel took his place and lifted the spherejust over second-baseman's head into the outfield. The bases were full.The red-faced senior was working his arms heroically and begging inhusky tones for more noise. And when, a minute later, McLimmont took uphis bat and faced the Robinson pitcher, the supporters of the purplewent mad up there on the sun-smitten stand and drowned the discordantefforts of the Robinson band.
McLimmont rubbed his hands in the dust, rubbed the dust off on histrousers, and swung his bat. Dithman, who had puzzled Erskine battersall day and had pitched a magnificent game for six innings, shookhimself together. McLimmont waited. No, thank you, he didn't care forthat out-shoot, nor for that drop, nor for-- What? A strike, did hesay? Well, perhaps it did go somewhere near the plate, though to seeit coming you'd have thought it was going to be a passed ball! One andtwo, wasn't it? Thanks; there was no hurry then, so he'd just let thatin-curve alone, wait until something worth while came along, and--_Eh!_what was that? Strike two! Well, well, well, of all the umpires thisfellow must be a beginner! Never mind that, though. But he'd have tolook sharp now or else----
_Crack!_
Off sped the ball, and off sped McLimmont. The former went overfirst-baseman's head; the latter swung around the bag like anautomobile taking a corner, and raced for second, reaching it on hisstomach a second before the ball. There was rejoicing where the purpleflags fluttered, for Captain Milford and Lester had scored.
But Erskine's good fortune ended there. McLimmont was thrown out whiletrying to steal third, and Levett popped a short fly into the hands ofthe pitcher. Greene trotted off to the box, and Ned walked dejectedlyback to the bench. Page stared at him in surprise. Then, "Didn't I tellyou to play center field?" he ejaculated.
Ned's heart turned a somersault and landed in his throat. He stareddumbly back at the head coach and shook his head. As he did so hebecame aware of Stilson's presence on the bench.
"What? Well, get a move on!" said Page.
Get a move on! Ned went out to center as though he had knocked athree-bagger and wanted to get home on it. Little Browne grinned at himas he sped by.
"Good work, Brewster!" he called, softly.
Over at left, Kesner, happy over his own good fortune, wavedcongratulations. In the Erskine section the desultory hand-clappingwhich had accompanied Ned's departure for center field died away, andthe eighth inning began with the score 12-8.
III
From center field the grand stands are very far away. Ned was glad ofit. He felt particularly happy and wanted to have a good comfortablegrin all to himself. He had won his E. Nothing else mattered verymuch now. So grin he did to his heart's content, and even jumped upand down on his toes a few times; he would have liked to sing orwhistle, but that was out of the question. And then suddenly he beganto wonder whether he had not, after all, secured the coveted symbolunder false pretense; would he be able to do any better than Stilsonhad done? Robinson's clever pitcher had fooled man after man; was itlikely that he would succeed where the best batsmen of the varsitynine had virtually failed? Or, worse, supposing he showed up no betterhere in the outfield than had Stilson! The sun was low in the westand the atmosphere was filled with a golden haze; it seemed to himthat it might be very easy to misjudge a ball in that queer glow. Ofa sudden his heart began to hammer at his ribs sickeningly. He wasafraid--afraid that he would fail, when the trial came, there withthe whole college looking on! Little shivers ran up his back, and heclenched his hands till they hurt. He wished, oh, how he wished it wasover! Then there came the sharp sound of bat against ball, and in aninstant he was racing in toward second, his thoughts intent upon thebrown speck that sailed high in air, his fears all forgotten.
Back sped second-baseman, and on went Ned. "My ball!" he shouted.Milford hesitated an instant, then gave up the attempt. "All yours,Brewster!" he shouted back. "Steady!" Ned finished his run and glancedup, stepped a little to the left, put up his hands, and felt the ballthud against his glove. Then he fielded it to second and trotted back;and as he went he heard the applause, loud and hearty, from the stands.After that there was no more fear. Robinson failed to get a man pastfirst, and presently he was trotting in to the bench side by side withKesner.
"Brewster at bat!" called Hovey, and, with a sudden throb at his heart,Ned selected a stick and went to the plate. He stood there swinginghis bat easily, confidently, as one who is not to be fooled by theordinary wiles of the pitcher, a well-built, curly-haired youngsterwith blue eyes, and cheeks in which the red showed through the liberalcoating of tan.
"The best batter the freshmen had," fellows whispered one to another.
"Looks as though he knew how, too, eh? Just you watch him, now!"
And the red-faced senior once more demanded three long Erskines, threetimes three, and three long Erskines for Brewster! And Ned heardthem--he couldn't very well have helped it!--and felt very gratefuland proud. And five minutes later he was back on the bench, frowningmiserably at his knuckles, having been struck out without the leastdifficulty by the long-legged Dithman. The pride was all gone. "But,"he repeated, silently, "wait until next time! Just wait until nexttime!"
Billings found the Robinson pitcher for a two-bagger, stole third, andcame home on a hit by Greene. Erskine's spirits rose another notch.Three more runs to tie the score in this inning, and then--why, itwould be strange indeed if the purple couldn't win out! Captain Milfordwent to bat in a veritable tempest of cheers. He looked determined; butso did his adversary, the redoubtable Dithman.
"We've got to tie it this inning," said Levett, anxiously. "We'll neverdo it next, when the tail-enders come up."
"There's one tail-ender who's going to hit that chap in the box nexttime," answered Ned.
"Lady" looked amused.
"You'll be in luck if it comes around to you," he said. "We all will.Oh, thunder! Another strike!"
A moment later they were on their feet, and the ball was archinginto left field; and "Big Jim" was plowing his way around first.But the eighth inning ended right there, for the ball plumped intoleft-fielder's hands. "Lady" groaned, picked up his big mitt, andambled
to first, and the ninth inning began with the score 12 to 9.
Greene was determined that Robinson should not increase his tally, evento the extent of making it a baker's dozen. And he pitched wonderfulball, striking out the first two batsmen, allowing the next to makefirst on a hit past short-stop, and then bringing the half to an endby sending three glorious balls over the corner of the plate one afteranother, amid the frantic cheers of the Erskine contingent and thedismay of the puzzled batsman. Then the rival nines changed places forthe last time, and Robinson set grimly and determinedly about the taskof keeping Erskine's players from crossing the plate again.
And Milford, leaning above Hovey's shoulder, viewed the list of battingcandidates and ruefully concluded that she would not have much troubledoing it.
The stands were emptying and the spectators were ranging themselvesalong the base-lines. The Robinson band had broken out afresh, and theRobinson cheerers were confident. The sun was low in the west, and theshadows of the stands stretched far across the diamond. Kesner, whohad taken Lester's place in the batting list, stepped to the plate andfaced Dithman, and the final struggle was on.
Dithman looked as calmly confident as at any time during the game,and yet, after pitching eight innings of excellent ball, it scarcelyseemed likely that he could still command perfect form. Kesner proveda foeman worthy of his steel; the most seductive drops and shootsfailed to entice him, and with three balls against him Dithman wasforced to put the ball over the plate. The second time he did it,Kesner found it and went to first on a clean hit into the outfield pastthird, and the purple banners flaunted exultantly. Milford's face tookon an expression of hopefulness as he dashed to first and whisperedhis instructions in Kesner's ear. Then he retired to the coaches'box and put every effort into getting the runner down to second. ButFate came to his assistance and saved him some breath. Dithman lostcommand of the dirty brown sphere for one little moment, and it wentwild, striking Greene on the thigh. And when he limped to first Kesnerwent on to second, and there were two on bases, and Erskine was madwith joy. Milford and Billings were coaching from opposite corners,Milford's bellowing being plainly heard a quarter of a mile away; hehad a good, hearty voice, and for the first time that day it botheredthe Robinson pitcher. For Housel, waiting for a chance to make a bunt,was kept busy getting out of the way of the balls, and after four ofthem was given his base.
Erskine's delight was now of the sort best expressed by turningsomersaults. As somersaults were out of the question, owing to thedensity of the throng, her supporters were forced to content themselveswith jumping up and down and shouting the last breaths from theirbodies. Bases full and none out! Three runs would tie the score! Fourruns would win! And they'd get them, of course; there was no doubtabout that--at least, not until McLimmont had struck out and had turnedback to the bench with miserable face. Then it was Robinson's turnto cheer. Erskine looked doubtful for a moment, then began her huskyshouting again; after all, there was only one out. But Dithman, ratherpale of face, had himself in hand once more. To the knowing ones,Levett, who followed McLimmont, was already as good as out; the wayin which he stood, the manner in which he "went down" for the balls,proved him nervous and overanxious. With two strikes and three ballscalled on him, he swung at a wretched out-shoot. A low groan ran alongthe bench. Levett himself didn't groan; he placed his bat carefully onthe ground, kicked it ten yards away, and said "Confound the luck!"very forcibly.
"You're up, Brewster," called Hovey.
"Two gone! Last man, fellows!" shouted the Robinson catcher, as Nedtapped the plate.
"Last man!" echoed the second-baseman. "He's easy!"
"Make him pitch 'em, Brewster!" called Milford. The rest was drownedin the sudden surge of cheers from the Robinson side. Ned faced thepitcher with an uncomfortable empty feeling inside of him. He meant tohit that ball, but he greatly feared he wouldn't; he scarcely daredthink what a hit meant. For a moment he wished himself well out ofit--wished that he was back on the bench and that another had his placeand his chance to win or lose the game. Then the first delivery spedtoward him, and much of his nervousness vanished.
"Ball!" droned the umpire.
Milford and Levett were coaching again; it was hard to say whose voicewas the loudest. Down at first Housel was dancing back and forth on histoes, and back of him Milford, kneeling on the turf, was roaring: "Twogone, Jack, remember! Run on anything! Look out for a passed ball! Nowyou're off! Hi, hi, hi! _Look out!_ He won't throw! Take a lead--go on!Watch his arm; go down with his arm! Now you're off! _Now, now, now!_"
But if this was meant to rattle the pitcher it failed of its effect.Dithman swung his arm out, danced forward on his left foot, and shotthe ball away.
"Strike!" said the umpire.
Ned wondered why he had let that ball go by; he had been sure that itwas going to cut the plate, and yet he had stood by undecided untilit was too late. Well! He gripped his bat a little tighter, shiftedhis feet a few inches, and waited again. Dithman's expression of calmunconcern aroused his ire; just let him get one whack at that ball andhe would show that long-legged pitcher something to surprise him! Apalpable in-shoot followed, and Ned staggered out of its way. Thencame what was so undoubtedly a ball that Ned merely smiled at it.Unfortunately at the last instant it dropped down below his shoulder,and he waited anxiously for the verdict.
"Strike two!" called the umpire.
Two and two! Ned's heart sank. He shot a glance toward first. Milfordwas staring over at him imploringly. Ned gave a gasp and set his jawstogether firmly. The pitcher had the ball again, and was signalingto the catcher. Then out shot his arm, the little one-legged hopfollowed, and the ball sped toward the boy at the plate. And hisheart gave a leap, for the delivery was a straight ball, swift, to besure, but straight and true for the plate. Ned took one step forward,and ball and bat met with a sound like a pistol-shot, and a pair ofpurple-stockinged legs were flashing toward first.
Up, up against the gray-blue sky went the sphere, and then it seemedto hang for a moment there, neither rising nor falling. And all thetime the bases were emptying themselves. Kesner was in ere the ball waswell away, Greene was close behind him, and now Housel, slower becauseof his size, was swinging by third; and from second sped a smaller,lithe figure with down-bent head and legs fairly flying. Coaches wereshouting wild, useless words, and none but themselves heard them; forfour thousand voices were shrieking frenziedly, and four thousand pairsof eyes were either watching the flight of the far-off ball, or werefixed anxiously upon the figure of left-fielder, who, away up near thefence and the row of trees, was running desperately back.
Ned reached second, and, for the first time since he had startedaround, looked for the ball, and, as he did so, afar off across theturf a figure stooped and picked something from the ground and threwit to center-fielder, and center-fielder threw it to third-baseman,and meanwhile Ned trotted over the plate into the arms of "Big Jim"Milford, and Hovey made four big black tallies in the score-book.Three minutes later and it was all over, Billings flying out to centerfield, and the final score stood 13-12. Erskine owned the field,and Ned, swaying and slipping dizzily about on the shoulders ofthree temporary lunatics, looked down upon a surging sea of shouting,distorted faces, and tried his hardest to appear unconcerned--and wassecretly very, very happy. He had his E; best of all, he had honestlyearned it.
Ned trotted over the plate into the arms of "Big Jim"Milford.]
Arrival of Jimpson, and Other Stories for Boys about Boys Page 10
