the Shortstop (1992)

by Grey, Zane

  That was the burden of their refrain, and all Chase's stout denials in no wise mitigated their suspicion. He was a " ringer." To them he was an object of scorn and fear, for he had come from somewhere out of the vast unknown to wrest their laurels from them.

  Outside little groups had congregated on corners and in the street, and sud! denly, as by one impulse, they gathered in a crowd before the tavern. Ample reason there was for this, because some scout had sighted the approach of the visiting team. Chase gathered that Brownsville was an adjoining country town, and, since time out of mind, a hated rival.

  Wagons and buggies, vehicles of all kinds and descriptions, filed by on the way to the ball-grounds; and a hay-wagon with a single layer of hay and a full load of husky young men, stopped before the tavern. The crowd inspected the load of young men with an anxiety most manifest, and soon remarks were heard testifying that the opposing team had grace enough to come with but one ringer.

  The excitement, enthusiasm, and hubbub were amusing to Chase. He knew nothing of the importance of a game of ball between two country towns. While he was standing there a slim, clean-faced young man came up to him.

  "My name's Hutchinson," he said. " I'm the school-teacher over at Brownsville. and I'm here to catch the game for our fellows. Now, it appears there's some fuss about you being a ringer. We don't know you, and we don't care what Jacktown thinks. But the fact is, our pitcher hurt his arm and can't play. Either we play or forfeit the game. If you can pitch we'll be glad to have you. How about it?"

  Chase assented readily, and moved to the hay-wagon with Hutchinson, while the crowd hooted and yelled. Small boys kept up a running pace with the wagon, and were not above flinging pebbles along with shouts of defiance. At the end of the village opened up a broad green meadow, upon which was the playground. There was a barn to one side, where the wagon emptied its load; and here the young men went within to put on their uniforms.

  The uniform handed to Chase was the one belonging to the disabled pitcher, who must have been a worthy son of Ajax. For Chase was no stripling, yet he was lost in its reach and girth. The color of it stunned him. Brightest of bright red flannel, trimmed with white stripes, with white cotton stockings, this gorgeous suit voiced the rustic lads' enthusiasm for the great national game But when Chase went outside and saw the uniforms decorating the proud persons of the Jacktown nine he could hardly suppress a wild burst of mirth. For they wore blue caps, pink shirts, green trousers, and red stockings. Most of them were minus shoes, and judging from their activity were as well off without them. What was most striking to Chase, after the uniforms, was the deadly earnestness of the players of both teams. This attitude toward the game extended to the spectators crowding on the field. Chase did not need to be told that the whole of Jacktown was present and much of Brownsville.

  Hutchinson came up to Chase then, tossed a ball to him, and said they had better have a little practice. After Chase had warmed up he began throwing the ball with greater speed and giving it a certain twist which made it curve. This was something he had recently learned. At first Hutchinson was plainly mysti!fied he could not get his hands on the ball. It would hit him on the fingers or wrists, and finally a swift in-shoot struck him in the stomach. Wherefore he carne up to Chase and said:

  I never saw a ball jump like that. Whataed you do to it? "IAEm throwing curves."

  A light broke over the school-master's face, and it was one of pleasure.

  "I've read about it. You are throwing the new way. But these lads never heard of a curve. They'll break their backs trying to hit the ball. Now tell me how I shall know when you are going to throw a curve.'

  " You sign for what you want. When you kneel back of the batter sign to me, one finger for fastball, two fingers for a curve."

  " Good! " cried Hutchinson.

  After a little more practice he managed with the aid of his lately acquired knowledge to get in front of Chase's curves and to stop them. Presently a pompous individual wearing the Jacktown uniform came up to Chase and Hutchinson.

  " Battin' order," he said, waving his pencil.

  Hutchinson gave the names of his players, and when he mentioned Chase's the Jacktown man either misunderstood or was inclined to be facetious.

  " Chaseaway ? Is thet his name ? Darn me, if he won't chase away to the tall timber."

  He was the captain, and with a great show of authority called both teams round the home plate for the purpose of being admonished, lectured, and told how to play the game by the umpire. Chase had not seen this official, and when he did see him his jaw dropped. The umpire wore skin-tight velveteen knee-trousers, black stockings, and low shoes with buckles. His striped shirt was arranged in a full blouse, and on the side of his head was stuck very wonderfully a small, jaunty cap. He addressed the players as if he were the arbiter of fate, and he lifted his voice so that the audience could receive the benefit of his eloquence and understand perfectly the irrevocable nature of the decision he was about to render. In conclusion, he recited a number of baseball rules in general and ground-rules in particular, most remarkable in themselves and most glaringly designed to favor the home team. Chase extracted from the complexity of one of these rules that on a passed ball behind the catcher, or an overthrow at first, when Jacktown was at bat the player could have all the bases he could make; and when Brownsville was at bat, for some inscrutable reason, this same rule did not hold.

  Then this master of ceremonies ordered the Jacktown team into the field, tripped like a ballet-dancer to his position behind the catcher, and sang out in a veritable clarion blast: " P-l-a-e-y B-a-w-l ! "

  Chase could scarcely remove his gaze from the umpire, but as his turn to bat came in the first inning he directed his attention to the Jacktown pitcher. He remembered that some one had said this important member of the Jacktowns was the village blacksmith.

  After one glance, Chase did not doubt it. The pitcher was a man of enormous build and his bared right arm looked like a branch of a rugged oak-tree. The first ball he shot toward the home-plate resembled a thin white streak.

  " O-n-e S-t r-i-e-k-e ! " shrieked the umpire.

  Two more balls similar to the first retired the batter, and three more per!formed the same office for the second batter. It was Chase's turn next. He was a natural hitter, and had perfect confidence. But as the first ball zipped past him, looking about the size of a pea, he knew he had never before faced such terrific speed.

  Nor did he have power to see in that farmer blacksmith one of the greatest pitchers the game was ever to produce. Chase struck at the next two balls and was called out. Then the Jacktown players trooped in, to the wild clamor of their supporters.

  When Chase saw some of the big Jacktown fellows swing their bats he knew he would have an easy time with them, for they stood with their feet wide apart, and held their bats with the left hand over the right, which made a clean, straight swing impossible. He struck out the first three batters on nine pitched balls.

  For several innings it went on in that manner, each club blanking the other. When Brownsville came in for their fifth inning at bat, Chase got Hutchinson to call all the players round him in a bunch. "Boys," he said, " we can hit this Jacktown pitcher. He throws a straight ball, almost always waist-high. Now, you all swing too hard. Let's choke the bat, hold it half-way up instead of by the handle, and poke at the ball. Just meet it."

  The first player up, acting on Chase's advice, placed a stinging hit into right field. Whereupon the Brownsville contingent on the side-lines rose in a body and roared their appreciation of this feat. The second batter hit a ground ball at the short-stop, who fielded it perfectly, but threw wild to the base-man. And the third hitter sent up a very high fly. The whole Jacktown team made a rush to try to catch the ball when it came down. It went so high that it took sometime to drop, all of which time the Brownsville runners were going like mad round the bases. When the ball returned to earth, so many hands were raised to clutch it that it bounced away to the ground. One runner
had scored, and two were left, on second and third bases respectively.

  Chase walked to the plate with determination. He allowed the first ball to go by, but watched it closely, gauging its speed and height. The next one he met squarely with a solid crack. It shot out over second base, went up and up, far beyond the fielder. Amid the delirious joy of the Brownsville partisans the two runners scored ahead of Chase, and before the ball could be found he too reached home.

  The Jacktown players went to pieces after that, and fumbled so outrageously and threw so erratically that Brownsville scored three more runs before the inning was over.

  Plain it was that when Jacktown came in for their bat nothing short of murder was impossible for them. They were wild-eyed, and hopped along the baselines like Indians on the war-path. But yell and rage and strive all they knew how, it made no difference. They simply could not get their bats to connect with Chase's curves. They did not know what was wrong.

  Chase delivered a slow, easy ball that apparently came sailing like a balloon straight for the plate, and just as the batter swung his bat the ball suddenly swerved so that he hit nothing but the air. Some of them spun around, so viciously did they swing, but not one of them so much as touched the ball.

  The giant pitcher grunted like an ox when he made his bat whistle through the air; and every time he swung at one of the slow, tantalizing balls to miss it, he frothed at the mouth in his fury. His reputation as a great hitter was undone that day and he died hard.

  In the eighth inning, with the score 11 to 0, matters were serious when the Jacktown team came in for their turn at bat. They whispered mysteriously and argued aloud, and acted altogether like persons possessed. When the first batter faced Chase the other players crowded behind the plate, where already a good part of the audience was standing.

  "It's his eye, his crooked eye," said one player, pointing an angry finger. " See thet ! You watch him, an' you think he's goin' to pitch the ball one way, an' it comes another. It 's his crooked eye, I tell you!"

  A sympathetic murmur from the other players and the crowd attested to the value of this remarkable statement. The first batter struck futilely at the balls, getting slower and more exasperating, and when he had missed three he slammed his bat on the ground and actually jumped up and down in his anger. The second batter aimed at a slow coming ball and swung with all his might, only to hit a hole in the air.

  With that the umpire tripped lightly before the plate, and standing on his tiptoes, waved his hand to the spectators. His eyes were staring with excitement, and on his cheek blazed the hue of righteous indignation.

  " Ga-me cal-led! " he yelled in his Pen!etrating tenor. " Game called, 9 to 0, favor JacktownI! BROWNSVILLE PITCHER THROWS A CROOKED BALL! "

  Pandemonium broke loose among the spectators. They massed on the field in inextricable confusion. The noise was deafening. Hats were in the air, and coats, and everything available for throwing up.

  Hutchinson fought his way through the crazy crowd, and grasping Chase pulled him with no gentle hand from the mob in the direction of the barn. Once out of the tumult he said " Hurry and change. I don't like the looks of things. These Jacktown fellows are rough. I think we'd better hurry out of town."

  It was all so amusing to Chase that he could not help laughing, but soon Hutchinson's sober aspect, and the wild anger of the other Brownsville players, who poured noisily into the barn, put a different coloring on the affair. What had been pure fun for him was plainly a life-and-death matter to these rustics. They divided their expression in mauling Chase with fervid congratulations and declarations of love, and passionate denunciations of the umpire and the whole Jacktown outfit.

  Suddenly, as loud shouts sounded outside the barn, Hutchinson ran out, to return at once with a startled look.

  " You've got to run for it!" he cried. "They're after you; they're in a devil of a temper. They'll ride you on a fence-rail, or tar and feather you. Hurry! You can't reason with them now. Run for it. You can't wait to dress."

  One look down the field was sufficient for Chase. The Jacktown players were marching toward the barn. The blacksmith led the way, and over his shoulder hung a long fence-rail. Behind them the crowd came yelling.

  " Run for it! " cried Hutchinson, greatly excited. "I'll fetch your clothes." Chase had removed all his uniform except stockings and shoes, and he had put on his shirt. Grabbing up his hat, trousers, and coat, he bounded out of the door and broke down the field like a scared deer.

  When the crowd saw him they let out a roar that lent wings to his feet. It frightened him so that he dropped his trousers, and did not dare stop to recover them. Over his shoulder he saw the Jacktown players, with the huge pitcher in the lead, start after him.

  The race was close only for a few moments. Chase possessed a fleetness of foot that now served him in good stead, and undoubtedly had never appeared to such advantage.

  With his hair flying in the wind, with his shirt-tails standing straight out behind him, he sped down the field, drawing so rapidly away that his pursuers seemed not to be running at all.

  Chapter IV.

  VICISSITUDE.

  NOT until he had leaped fences and crossed half a dozen fields did Chase venture to look back. When he did so, he saw with immense relief that he had distanced his pursuers. Several were straggling along in front of the others, but all stopped running presently, to send after him a last threatening shout.

  It made Chase as angry as a wet hornet. With all the power of his lungs he yelled back at them: " Hayseeds! Hayseeds ! "

  Then at sight of his bare knees he took to laughing till he nearly cried. What would his brother Will have thought of that run? What would his mother have thought? This last sobered him instantly. Whenever he remembered her, the spirit of adventure fled, leaving him with only the uncertainty of his situation.

  "It won't do to think of mother," he soliloquized, " for then I'll lose my nerve. Now what'll I do if those dunder-headed hayseeds steal my pants? I'll be in a bad fix."

  He climbed a knoll which stood about a mile from the ball-grounds, and from which he could see the surrounding country. The sun slowly sank in the west. Chase watched and watched and strained his eyes, but he could not see any one coming. The sun went down, leaving a red glow behind the hills; twilight, like a gray shadow seemed to steal toward him from the fields.

  He had noted a haystack at the foot of the knoll, and after one more hopeless glance over the darkening meadows, he went down to it. He had visited farms in the country often enough to know that haystacks left to the cattle usually had caves in them; and he found this one with a deep cavern, dry, sheltered, and sweetly odorous of musty hay.

  " If things keep up the way they've started for me I 'm likely to find worse beds than this," he muttered. He discovered he was very tired, and that the soft hay was conducive to a gradual relaxing of his muscles. But his mind whirled round and round. Would Hutchinson come? What had happened to the other Brownsville players? A savage bunch of Indians, that Jacktown-nine! How easy it had been to fool them with a simple, slow outcurve!

  "It's his crooked eye! He looks one way an' pitches another!" That jaunty umpire with his dainty shoes and velvet knickerbockers, - wherever on earth did he come from?

  So Chase played the game over in his mind, once more ran his desperate race, to come back to his predicament and the fear that he might not recover his trousers. At length sleep put an end to his worry.

  In the night he awoke, and seeing a bright star, which only accentuated the darkness, and smelling the fragrant hay, and hearing a strange sound, he did not realize where he was, and a chill terror crept over him. This soon passed. Still the low sound bothered him. Stretching forth his hand, he encountered a furry coat and heaving warm body. A cow had sought the shelter of the haystack and lay beside him chewing her cud. " Hello, bossy! " said Chase. " I 'd certainly rather sleep with a nice, gentle cow like you than a dead bad nigger."

  The strangeness of it all kept him awake f
or a while. The night was very quiet, the silence being unbroken save for the " peep, peep," of spring frogs and the low munch beside him. He asked himself if he were afraid, and said " No," but was not sure. Things seemed different in the dark and loneliness of night. Then his brother's words, "Hang on!" rang out of the silence, and repeating these in his heart, he treasured up strength for the future, and once more fell asleep.

  The sun was rosy red on the horizon when he awakened. His gentle friend stood browsing on the grass near at hand, and by way of beginning the day well he said, " Good-morning " to her.

  "Now what to do!" he said, seriously. "There's no use to expect any one now, and no use to go back to look for my trousers."

  The problem seemed unsolvable, when he saw a farmer in the field, evidently come out to drive up the cows. Chase covered his nakedness as well as possible with his coat, and hailed him. The farmer came up, slapped his knee with a big hand, and guffawed.

  " Gol darn my buttons, if it ain't thet Chaseaway fellar ! Say, I was over there yestiddy, an' seen the whole show. Best thing I ever seen, b'gosh! IAEm a Brownsville boy, I am. Now you come along with me. I 'll git a pair of overalls fer you an' a bite to eat. But you must light out quicker'n you'd say `Jack Robinson,' fer two of my farmhands played yestiddy, an' they're hoppin' mad."

  The kind-hearted farmer hid Chase in a wood-shed near his house and presently brought him a pair of overalls and some breakfast. Chase right gladly covered his chilly legs. Once more he felt his spirits rise. Fortunately his pocket-book had been in his coat, so it a was not lost. When he offered to pay the farmer that worthy refused to accept any money, and said he and everybody who was ever born in Brownsville were everlastingly bound to be grateful to a lad called Chaseaway.

  Then, under direction from the farmer, Chase started cross-country with the intention of finding the railroad and making for Columbus. When he reached the railroad he had to take the spikes off his baseball shoes, for they hurt his feet. He started westward along the track. Freight trains passed him going too fast for him to board, so he walked all day. Nightfall found him at a village, where after waiting an hour he caught a westbound freight, and reached Columbus at ten o'clock. He stumbled round over the tracks in the yards, climbed over trains, and made his way into the city. He secured a room in a cheap lodging-house and went to bed.