by Grey, Zane
"Here's twenty-five dollars advance, an' your contract. It's made out, so all you need to do is sign it. A hundred per month for yours ! Don't stare at me like thet. Take your contract. You're on ! An' as sure as my name's Mac Sandy I'll make a star of you!"
Chapter VI.
FIRST INNINGS.
WHEN Chase left the grounds his eyesight was still as blurred as it had been during the game, only now from a different source. His misery fell from him like a discarded cloak. He kept his hand deep in his right trousers' pocket, clutching the twenty-five dollars as if it were the only solid substance to give actuality to his dream of bliss. First he thought he would send all the money to his mother; then he reflected that as he resembled the most ragged species of tramp he must spend something for at least respectable clothing. He entered a second-hand store, where he purchased for the sum of five dollars a complete outfit, even down to shoes and hat.
It was not much on style, Chase thought, but clean and without a rip or hole. With this precious bundle under his arm he set out to find the ad!dress given him by Mac, where he could obtain board and lodging at a reasonable rate. After some inquiry he found the street and eventually the house, which, because of a much more pretentious appearance than he had supposed it would have, made him hesitate.
But following a blindly grateful resolve to do anything and everything that Mac had told him, he knocked on the door. It opened at once to show a stout matron of kindly aspect, who started somewhat as she saw him.
Chase said he had been sent there by Mac, and told his errand, whereupon the woman looked relieved.
"Exkoose me," she replied, "come righdt in. I haf one rooms, a putty nice one, four thalers a weeg."
She showed Chase a large room with four windows, a big white bed, a table and bureau, and chairs and a lounge; and with some difficulty managed to convey to him that he might have it and board for the sum of four dollars weekly. When he was certain she had not made a mistake he lost no time in paying her for a week is advance. Good fortune was still such a stranger to him that he wanted to insure himself against mo!ments of doubt.
He washed and dressed himself with pleasure that had not been his for many a day. Quite diligently did he apply the comb and brush Mrs. Obenwasser had so kindly procured. His hair was long and a mass of tangles, and it was full of cinders, which reminded him grimly of his dearly earned proficiency as a nightrider on fast mail trains and slow freights.
" That 's all over, thank Heaven !" breathed Chase. " I hope I can forget it."
But he knew he never would. When he backed away from the mirror and surveyed his clean face and neat suit, and saw therein a new Chase, the last vanishing gleam of his doubt and unhappiness left him. The supper bell, ringing at that moment, seemed to have a music of hope; and he went downstairs hungry and happy. Several young men at the table made themselves agreeable to him, introduced themselves as clerks employed down town, and incidentally dyed-in-the-wool baseball fans. Chase gathered that Mrs. Obenwasser was a widow of some means and kept boarders more out of the goodness of her heart and pride in her table than from any real necessity.
Chase ate like a famished wolf. Never had meat and biscuits and milk and pie been so good. And it was shame that made him finally desist, not satisfied appetite.
After supper he got paper, pen, and ink from his landlady and went to his room to write home. It came to him with a sudden shock that he had never written since he left. What could they have thought? But he hastened to write, for he had good news. He told Will everything, though he skimmed over it lightly, as if his vicissitudes were but incidents in the rise of a ball player. He wrote to his mother, telling her of his good fortune, of the promise of the future, of his good health and spirits. Then he enclosed all his money, except a dollar or so in silver, in the letter and sealed it. Try as hard as he might, Chase could not prevent his tears from falling on that letter and they were sealed up with it.
Then he sallied forth to look for the post-office and incidentally to see something of Findlay. He was surprised to find it a larger and more prosperous place than he had supposed. Main Street was broad and had many handsome buildings. The avenues leading from it were macadamized and lined with maple-trees. Chase strolled round a block and saw many fine brick residences and substantial frame houses with vine-covered, roomy porches and large lawns. Back on Main Street again he walked along without aim. There was a hotel on the next corner, and a number of young men were sitting outside with chairs tilted back against the window, and also on the edge of the sidewalk.
Chase had sauntered into the ken of his fellow players.
" Say, fellars, will you get onto thet ! "
" It's Chaseaway ! "
" Hello, Chase, old sport, come an' have a drink."
" Dude Thatches ; we can see your finish. Our new short-stop is some on the dress himself. He'll show you up!"
"Would you mind droppin' your lid over thet lame blinker? I don't want to have the willies to-night."
Then an incident diverted their attack on Chase. Some one kicked a leg of Enoch Winter's chair, and being already tipped far back, it overbalanced and let Enoch sprawl in the gutter. Whereupon the group howled in glee.
" Cap'n, wasser masser? " inquired Benny, trying to help Enoch to his feet and falling over him instead. Benny was drunk. Slowly Enoch separated himself from Benny and righted his chair and seated himself.
"Now, ain't it funny?" said he.
His slow, easy manner of speaking, without a trace of resentment, made Chase look at him. Enoch was captain of the team and a man long past his boyhood. Yet there remained something boyish about him. He had a round face and a round bullet head, cropped close; round gray eyes, wise as an owl's, and he had a round lump on his right cheek. As this lump moved up and down, Chase presently divined that it was only a puffed-out cheek over a quid of tobacco. He instinctively liked his captain, and when asked to sit down in a vacant chair near at hand he did so, with the pleasant thought that at last he was one of them.
Chase sat there for over an hour, intensely interested in all of them, in what they said and did. He felt sorry for Benny, for the second-baseman was much under the influence of liquor, had a haggard face and unkempt appearance. The fellow called Dude Thatcher was a tall youth, good looking, very quiet, and very well dressed. Chase saw him flick dust off his shiny shoes, and more than once adjust his spotless cuffs. Meade was a typical ball player, under twenty, a rugged and bronzed fellow of jovial aspect. Hicks would never see thirty again; there was gray hair over his temples; he was robust of build and his hands resembled eaglesAE claws. He was a catcher, and many a jammed and broken finger had been his lot.
What surprised Chase more than anything was the fact that baseball was not once mentioned by this group. They were extremely voluble, too, and talked on every subject under the sun except the one that concerned their occupation. Under every remark lay a subtle inflection of humor. Mild sarcasm and sharp retort and ready wit flashed back and forth.
The left-fielder of the team, Frank Havil by name, a tall, thin fellow with a pale, sanctimonious face, strolled out of the hotel lobby and seated himself near Chase. And with his arrival came a series of most peculiar happenings to Chase. At first he thought mosquitoes or flies were bothering him; then he imagined a wasp or hornet was butting into his ear; next he made sure of one thing only, that something was hitting the side of his face and head. Whatever it was he had no idea. It came at regular intervals and began to sting more and more. He took a sidelong glance at Havil, but that young man's calm, serious face disarmed any suspicion. But when Havil got up and moved away the strange fact that the stinging sensa! tion ceased to come caused Chase to associate it somehow with the quiet left fielder.
" Chase, did you feel anythin' queer when Havil was sittin' alongside of you? " asked Winters.
" I certainly did. What was it?"
"' Havil is a queer duck. He goes round with his mouth full of number ten shot, an' he works one out o
n the end of his tongue, an' flips it off his front teeth. Why, the blame fool can knock your eye out. I've seen him make old baldheaded men crazy by sittin' behind them en' shootin' shot onto the bald spots. AnAE he never cracks a smile. He can look anybody in the eye, an' they can't tell he 's doin' it, but they can feel it blamed well. He sure is a queer duck, an' - you look out for your one good eye."
"Thank you, I will. But I have two good eyes. I can see very well out - out; of the twisted one."
Chase went to his room and to bed. Sleep did not soon come. His mind was too full; too much had happened; the bed was too soft. He dozed off, to start suddenly up with the bump of a freight train in his ears. But when he did get to sleep it was in a deep, dreamless slumber that lasted until ten o'clock the next morning. After breakfast, which Mrs. Obenwasser had kept waiting for him, he walked out to the ball-grounds to find the gates locked. So with morning practice out of the question he returned to Main Street and walked toward the hotel.
He saw Castorious sitting in the lobby. "Hello, Chase, now wouldn't this jar you?" he said, in friendly tones, offering a copy of the Findlay Chronicle.
Could this be the stalking monster that had roared at him yesterday, and scared about the last bit of courage out of him? Cas laid a big freckled hand on the newspaper and pointed out a column.
BASEBALL NOTES
" Mac gave Morris his walking-papers yesterday and Stanhope his notice. This is a good move, as these players caused dissension in the club. Now we can look for the brace. Findlay has been laying down lately. Castorious's work yesterday is an example. We would advise him not to play that dodge any more. "The new short-stop, Chaseaway, put the boots on everything that came his way, but for all that we like his style. He is fast as lightning and has a grand whip. He stands up like Brouthers, and if we're any judge of ball players - here we want to say we've always called the turn-this new youngster will put the kibosh on a few and `chase' the Dude for batting honors"
Chase read it over twice and it brought the hot blood to his face. After that miserable showing of his in the game -how kind of the reporter to speak well of him! Chase's heart swelled. He had been wrong -there were lots of good fellows in the world.
"Make a fellow sick, wouldn't it?" said Cas, in disgust. "Accused me of laying down! Say, come and walk over to the hotel where the Kenton fellows are staying."
Chase felt very proud to be seen with the great pitcher, for whom all passersby had a nod or a word. They stopped at another hotel, in the lobby of which lounged a dozen broad-shouldered, red-faced young men.
" Say," said Cas, with a swing of his head, " I just dropped in to tell you guys that I'm going to pitch today, and I'm going to let you down with two hits. See! " A variety of answers were flung at him, but he made no reply and walked out. All the way up the street Chase heard him growling to himself.
The afternoon could not come soon enough for Chase. He went out to the grounds in high spirits. When he entered the dressing-room he encountered the same derisive clamor that had characterized the players' manner toward him the day before. And it stunned him. He looked at them aghast. Every one of them, except Cas, had a scowl and hard word for him. Benny, not quite sober yet, was brutal, and Meade made himself particularly offensive. Even Winters, who had been so friendly the night before, now said he would put out Chase's other lamp if he played poorly today. They were totally different from what they had been off the field. A frenzy of some kind possessed them. Roars of laughter following attacks on him, and for that matter on each other, detracted little, in Chase's mind, from the impression of unnatural sarcasm.
He hurriedly put on his uniform and got out of the room. He did not want to lose his nerve again. Cas sat on the end of the bleachers, pounding the boards with his bat.
"Say, I was waiting for you," he said in a whisper to Chase. "I'm going to put you wise when I get a chance to talk. All I want to say now is, I 'll show up this Kenton outfit today. They can't hit my speed, and they always hit my slow ball to left-field, through short.
Now you lay for them. Play deep and get the ball away quick. You've got the arm for it."
This was Cas's way of showing his friendship, and it surprised Chase as much as it pleased him. Mac came along then, and at once said " Howdy, boys. Cas, what are you dressed for?"
" I want to work today. "
" You do? What for? "
"Well, I'm sore about yesterday, and I'm sore on - Kenton, and if you'll work me today I'll shut them out."
" You 're on, Cas, you're on," said Mac, rubbing his hands in delight. "
Thet 's the way I want to hear you talk. We 'll break our losin' streak to!day.
Then Mac pulled Chase aside, out of earshot of the players pouring from the dressing-room, and said, " Lad, are you goin' to take coachin' ? "
" I 'll try to do everything you tell me, " replied Chase.
" Shure, thet's good. Listen. I'm goin' to teach you the game. Don't ever lose your nerve again. Got thet ? "
" Yes."
" When you're in the field with a runner on any base make up your mind before the ball's hit what to do with it if it should happen to come to you. Got thet ? "
" Yes."
" Play a deep short unless you're called in. Come in fast on slow hit balls; use a underhand snap throw to second or first base when you haven't lots of time. Got thet?"
" Yes."
When the ball is hit or thrown to any base-man, run with it to back up the player. Got thet ? "
" Yes. "
All right. So far so good. Now as to hittin'. I like the way you stand up. You 're a natural-born hitter, so stand your own way. Don't budge an inch for the speediest pitcher as ever threw a ball. Learn to dodge wild pitches. Wait, watch the ball. Let him pitch. Don't be anxious. Always take a strike if you're first up. Try to draw a base on balls. If there's runners on the bases look for a sign from me on the bench. If you see my score-card stickin' anywhere in sight, hit the first ball pitched. If you don't see it - wait. Turn round, easy like, you know, an' take a glance my way after every pitched ball, an' when you get the sign - hit. We play the hit-an'-run game. If you're on first or any base, look for the same sign from me. Then you'll know what the batter is up to an' you'll be ready. Hit an' run. Got thet ? "
"Yes, I think so."
'Well, don't get rattled even if you do make a mistake, an' never, never mind errors. Go after everythin' an' dig it out of the dust if you can, but never mind errors ! "
"An' Chase, wait," called Mac, as the eager youngster made for the field.
Then in a whisper, as if he were half afraid some of the other players would hear, he went on: "Don't sass the umpire. Don't ever speak to no umpire. If you get a rotten deal on strikes, slam your bat down, puff up, look mad, do anythin' to make a bluff, but don't sass the umpire. See!"
" I never will," declared Chase.
The Findlay team came on the grounds showing the effects of the shake-up. They were an aggressive, stormy aggregation. Epithets the farthest remove from complimentary flew thick and fast as the passing balls. A spirit of rivalry pervaded every action. In batting practice he who failed to send out a clean hard hit received a volley of abuse. In fielding practice he who fumbled a ball or threw too high or too low was scornfully told to go out on the lots and play with the kids. It was a merciless warfare, every player for himself, no quarter asked or given!
Chase fielded everything that came his way and threw perfectly to the bases, but even so, the players, especially Meade, vented their peculiar spleen on him as well as on others who made misplays. All of which did not affect Chase in the least. He was on his mettle; his blood was up.
The faith Mac had shown in him should be justified, that he vowed with all the intensity of feeling of which he was capable. The gong sounded for the game to start, and Castorious held forth in this wise " Fellows, I've got everything today. Speed - well say! it's come back. And my floater -why, you can count the stitches! You stiffs get in the game.
Big and awkward as Cas was in citizen dress, in baseball harness he made an admirable figure. The crowds in the stands had heard of his threat to the Kentons --- for of all gossip that in baseball circles flies the swiftest - and were out in force and loud in enthusiasm. The bleachers idolized him.
As the players went for their positions Cas whispered a parting word to Chase: " When you see my floater go up get on your toes!"
The umpire called play, threw out a white ball, and stood in expectant posture.
As Cas faced the first Kenton player he said in low voice: "Look out for your coco ! " Then he doubled up like a contortionist and undoubled to finish his motion with an easy, graceful swing. With wonderful swiftness the white ball travelled straight for the batter's head. Down he fell flat, jumped up with red face and yelled at Cas. The big pitcher smiled derisively, received the ball from the catcher, and with the same violent effort delivered another ball, but with not half the speed of the first. The batter had instinctively stepped back. The umpire called the ball a strike.
" 'Fraid to stand up, hey?" inquired Cas, in the same low, tantalizing voice. When he got the ball again he faced the batter, slowly lifted his long left leg, and seemed to turn with a prodigious step toward third base, at the same instant delivering the ball to the plate. The ball evidently wanted to do anything but reach its destination. Slowly it sailed, soared, floated, for it was one of Cas's floaters.
The batter half swung his bat, pulled it back, then poked at the ball helplessly. The result was an easy grounder to Chase, who threw the runner out.
It was soon manifest to Chase that Cas worked differently from any pitcher he had ever seen. Instead of trying to strike out any batters, Cas made them hit the ball. He never threw the same kind of a ball twice. He seemed to have a hundred different ways for the ball to Go. But always he vented his scorn on his opponents in the low sarcasm which may have been heard by the umpire, but was inaudible to the audience.
