CHAPTER XV
TELLS HOW THEY MEET THE MANNIG BASEBALL CLUB AND HOW NELSON AND BOB GETENGAGEMENTS
They made an early start the next morning. There was a delicious freshbreeze blowing from the bay, they were well rested, and life was wellworth living. For an hour they walked briskly and put several milesof hard, smooth road behind them. Then the sun began to make itselffelt, and their pace slackened. Whenever they caught a glimpse of FireIsland, Tom looked toward it longingly.
“I’m going over there some time and stay until there’s a storm and awreck. Wouldn’t you love to see them rescue folks?”
Bob thought that maybe he would; at any rate, he was quite certain hewould much rather look on than take part.
“I wouldn’t,” answered Tom promptly and with conviction. “I’d love tobe a life saver! Maybe, when I get through college, I will be. Wouldn’tit be exciting, Bob?”
“Very,” was the unenthusiastic response. “Think of tumbling out ofbed at three o’clock of a winter morning, with the thermometer doingstunts around zero, and taking a nice brisk row for a half a mile or sothrough waves as high as that house over there! Yes, indeed, Tommy, itwould be simply sweet!”
Tommy’s further remarks on the subject were interrupted by sounds onthe road behind them. They turned and moved aside in time to escapebeing run down by a coach drawn by two horses and filled with a merrycrowd of men and boys, some in gray baseball uniforms and others inordinary attire. As the coach swept past, the Four were treated to acheer, a wonderful medley which sounded about as intelligible as aChoctaw war cry. Behind the first coach was a second similarly filled,and this one slowed down as it reached them.
“Want a ride?” sung out a fellow in baseball attire who occupied theseat with the driver. The Four looked at each other inquiringly.
“We might ride for a little ways,” suggested Tom sheepishly.
The fellow in front accepted their hesitation as assent.
“Pile in there behind,” he said. “You’ll find room somewhere!”
“Sure!” called a voice from the body of the coach, which was one ofthose long vehicles with seats running lengthwise on either side, knownin some localities as a “barge.” “Sure! Lots of room. Come on!”
So they went. A boy hanging on to the steps behind dropped out of theway, and they climbed in. The occupants, a merry, good-natured throng,shoved and pushed until there was room for the newcomers, and the coachstarted up again. Many curious looks were cast at the boys’ packs, andfinally,
“Going over to the game?” asked Dan’s nearest neighbor.
“What game is that?” asked Dan politely.
“Oh, I thought perhaps you were going,” was the reply. “It’s the gamebetween Laurelville and Mannig; baseball, you know. We play ’em everyyear for a purse.”
“Oh,” said Dan, in turn. “Where’s it to be?”
“Laurelville this year. We’re the Mannig team--and rooters,” he addedwith a laugh. “The fellow that called out to you is Burns, our captainand third baseman. It’s going to be a great game. Everybody turns out,you know.”
“I see. Are you going to win?”
“Not likely, I guess,” was the answer. But a howl of protest arose.
“Sure, we are!”
“Beat ’em silly!”
“We won’t do a thing to ’em!”
Dan’s informant grinned and dropped his voice.
“They’ll lick us for keeps, I guess,” he said cheerfully. “Ourpitcher’s sick and can’t play. We tried to get Monroe, of Brooklyn;ever hear of him? Well, he’s a dandy, but he wanted more than we couldpay. We offered him thirty-five too!”
“But--do the other fellows let you get players from outside?” asked Dan.
“Oh, yes, we get ’em wherever we can find ’em. So does Laurelville.Their pitcher is Somes, of Rockaway, and he’s a dandy. We won’t be ableto hit him at all. And they’ve got a catcher, too, that’s just aboutall right!”
“Where is Laurelville?” asked Bob.
“About four miles farther. You fellows had better come along and seethe game.”
“Maybe we will,” answered Bob. “What do you say, Nelson?”
“I’m willing,” was the answer. “Can we get something to eat there?”
“Yes, indeed; there’s a fine hotel at Laurelville. You’d better comealong and root for us.”
“All right,” laughed Nelson. “We’ve got good loud voices.”
“Yes,” agreed Dan; “this fellow here got first prize once for making anoise; didn’t you, Tommy?”
“Shut up,” answered Tom, with a grin.
A fellow in baseball togs who appeared to be about twenty-five or -sixyears of age, and who was sitting on the other side of the coach,leaned forward and asked smilingly:
“I suppose you fellows don’t play?”
“Not much,” answered Bob carelessly.
Perhaps it was Tom’s look of surprise or the twinkle in Dan’s eye whichmade the other doubt the truth of Bob’s assertion.
“Because, you know,” he continued, “we need a pitcher like anything,and we could use a good batsman somewhere. And there’d be a littlemoney in it too.”
Tom nudged Bob and looked excitedly at Nelson.
“Why don’t you, Nel?” he exclaimed.
“You dry up, Tommy,” answered Nelson.
“Look here,” said the player, leaving his seat and swaying unsteadilyin front of the Four, “if any of you fellows can pitch we’ll make itworth your while!”
“Thanks,” answered Nelson; “but you mustn’t mind Tommy; he’s notaltogether sane; has fits once in a while.”
“But, look here, I’m in earnest!” continued the other. The othermembers of the Mannig delegation were leaning forward and listeninginterestedly.
“Well, what Tommy means is that I have pitched,” answered Nelson, atrifle embarrassed, “but I wouldn’t do for you chaps. I’m not fancyenough.”
“Tell you what we’ll do,” said the other excitedly. “You come with usand show us what you can do before dinner. And if we like the looks ofit, we’ll give you twenty dollars to pitch the game for us. And ifany of the rest of you can hit well, we’ll find a place for you in theoutfield and pay you ten dollars. That’s a fair offer, isn’t it?”
“Fair enough,” answered Nelson laughingly. “But we couldn’t take yourmoney, you see, because we’re going to college next year, and if we didwe wouldn’t be able to play there.”
“Oh, pshaw, we don’t know your names or anything about you,” was thereply. “We’ll all forget it to-morrow. You needn’t be afraid of that.”
“Thanks,” answered Nelson dryly, “but I’d rather not.”
Tom looked greatly disappointed.
“Show them what you can do, Nel,” advised Bob. “It will be rather goodfun. I’d like to play myself,” he added, turning to the player. “I’mnot in practice, I guess; haven’t played since last month, and then notmuch; but I can hit sometimes.”
“Prove it and I’ll pay you ten dollars for the game!” said the otherquickly. “I’m manager and I can do what I say; and I will do it too.”
“Oh, no, you won’t!” laughed Bob good-naturedly. “If you want me tohelp you out, I’ll do it, but I won’t take any money for it. That’sunderstood. How about you, Nel? Want to try pitching? You can do it,I’ll bet.”
“I’ll play if you will,” answered Nelson.
“Where do Tommy and I come in?” asked Dan. He turned to the Mannigmanager. “Want anyone to peddle popcorn or sell lemonade?” he inquiredgravely.
“Don’t you play?” asked the manager, casting an admiring glance overDan’s figure.
“Me? Why, I was with the Clevelands for three years,” answered Dan.“But I’ve been ill, and the doctor thinks I’d better stay out of thegame for a while.”
“I see,” answered the other with a laugh. Then he squeezed himselfbetween Bob and Nelson, and asked questions and answered them.
It seemed tha
t the annual game between Laurelville and Mannig hadbecome an event of some importance in that part of the island. They hadplayed each other for six years, during which time each team had wonthree games. This year’s contest was, therefore, in a way decisive.Each year the merchants and citizens of the rival towns donated a purseof five hundred dollars, four hundred of which went to the victors andone hundred to the vanquished. Each team secured players wherever theycould find them, paying such prices for their services as they couldafford. And as the residents of the two towns were extremely generousin the matter of donations, some of the prices paid to crack playerswere pretty high. The umpire, explained the manager--who told them hisname was Fultz--was a professional from New York. Their team, Fultzwent on to explain, had had rather hard luck this season; two of theirbest men had deserted them, and their pitcher was ill in bed. As aresult they weren’t very hopeful of victory.
“Unless,” he added, observing Nelson anxiously, “you can help us out agood bit.”
But Nelson spoke very modestly of his prowess, and the manager’s hopesdwindled. Presently the Mannig captain, Burns, saw that something wasup and came back to them. Introductions were made, and Burns declaredhimself highly pleased at the prospect of being assisted by Nelson andBob. But, nevertheless, he didn’t look especially enthusiastic. Perhapsthe two, in their travel-stained pedestrian costumes, didn’t look verymuch like adept ball players.
Laurelville, which they reached at about half-past ten, proved to bequite a fair-sized town; and it was very evident that it was in holidaygarb and holiday humor. The windows of the stores were liberallydecorated with green and white, and flags and streamers of the samecolors were flaunted from the fronts of the buildings. When the coachesreached the hotel the porch of that hostelry was already pretty wellcrowded with guests. Naturally, the arrival of the Mannig contingentoccasioned not a little interest. The adjacent sidewalk was crowdedwith small boys, and their remarks as the rival players descended fromthe coaches were more graphic than complimentary. Tom descended to averitable fusillade of comment.
“Say, look at the fat boy!”
“Bet yer he can run fine!”
“Get out! He ain’t no player; he’s the backstop, he is!”
Tom showed symptoms of annoyance, and to prevent hostilities Danlugged him quickly up the steps of the hotel. After they had allregistered, and the Four had been impressively introduced to almostevery Mannigite, they adjourned to a vacant lot back of the house andheld an hour’s practice, observed and criticised by most of the youngerpopulation of Laurelville. Nelson showed what he could do at twirling,and, although at first he was rather wild and uncertain, after a fewminutes he got settled down, and Fultz and Burns looked almost cheerful.
Bob got into the batting work and had no trouble in putting the ballwherever he wanted to. But, of course, the delivery was easy enough tohit, and his performance then was no criterion of what would happen inthe game. At twelve they went back to the house and were instructed torest until dinner time. Many of the players found seats on the porch,where they indulged in a battle of repartee with the local wits linedup along the curbstone. Others sought the billiard room and spentmost of that hour of rest walking about the tables. Tom and Dan tooka walk through the village, accompanied by Barry. The latter seemedto understand that for the present he owed allegiance to Mannig, and,coming across a yellow dog decorated with a bunch of green and whiteribbon, proceeded to inflict summary punishment and establish thesuperiority of the visitors. By the time Dan had dragged him away fromhis prey the green and white ribbon wasn’t worth talking about. Barrystood the subsequent cuffing with equanimity, and trotted on againbehind his master with a knowing leer in his eye and a section oftattered ribbon hanging rakishly and defiantly from the corner of hismouth.
The main street of the town was becoming quite populous with vehicles,and the holiday atmosphere increased every moment. The game was theone important and all-absorbing topic of conversation. When the twostopped to buy some sweet chocolate at a corner fruit stand, theItalian proprietor asked eagerly who they thought would win, andwhen, later on, returning to the hotel, they entered a drug store foregg phosphates, the clerk who served them was full of questions andinformation.
“They tell me,” he said, “that Mannig’s got a fellow to pitch for themwho was with the Hoboken team last year, a regular peach. Did you hearanything about it?”
Dan looked wise as he sipped his phosphate.
“Something,” he answered. “I was talking with Burns, the Mannigcaptain, awhile ago. But I understood that the pitcher is a fellownamed Tilford who pitched for Chicora.”
“Where’s that?” asked the clerk.
“New Hampshire.”
“Good team?”
“Fine! Beat everything in sight, they tell me. And this pitcher is acorker. Your men here won’t be able to touch him; he’s got a slow dropthat’ll make them look silly!”
“Are you a Mannig fellow?” asked the clerk suspiciously.
“No, we’re strangers here; just happened along this morning. Would youmind putting a bit more milk in this? It’s a little too sweet.”
The clerk obeyed, thereby practically doubling Dan’s drink. Tom watchedenviously, and looked doubtfully at his own glass, which was aboutempty, in the hope that the clerk would offer to perform a like servicefor him. But the clerk was busy talking again, and paid no attention.
“Well, we think we’ve got a pretty good pitcher ourselves,” he saidsmugly. “Ever hear of ‘Slim’ Somes, of Rockaway?”
Dan said he had, neglecting to add that the only occasion on which hehad heard of Mr. Somes was that morning in the coach. The clerk noddedwith satisfaction.
“Well, just you keep your eyes on him,” he advised. “He’s one of thebest there is, he is. And if you want to bet anything on the game, Iknow where you’ll find some one to oblige you.”
“Thanks,” answered Dan carelessly. “I make it a rule never to bet. I’mso lucky that it seems too bad to take the other chap’s money everytime; I get ashamed of myself. Well, good luck.”
They went out and made their way along the crowded sidewalk to thehotel, the only incident of moment occurring when Barry was suddenlymissed, and was discovered a minute later in a baker’s shop, where hehad “treed” a big Maltese cat on top of a showcase. The woman in chargewas highly indignant, and threatened Dan with the law until he squaredhimself by purchasing three jelly tarts for a nickel, and admiring thecat.
Dinner was a confused and hurried meal, for there were at least threeapplicants for every place at the four long tables, and to eat calmlywith a dozen persons crowding about and waiting for your chair wassimply out of the question.
The game was to begin at half-past two, and at two the coaches cameto the door again, and the Mannig party tumbled into them, and weredriven away to a chorus of hoots and jeers from the audience outsidethe hotel. The ball ground was on the outskirts of the town, a verycreditable field with a grand stand capable of seating several hundredpersons. The Mannig team took the field for practice. Nelson and Bobhad been presented with uniforms of gray flannel bearing big blueMs on the breasts of the shirts, uniforms secured from a couple ofsubstitutes only after persuasion almost amounting to main force. Bobwas put at right field. It had been some time since he had played inthe outfield, for his position was behind the bat, but after a fewflies had come his way he gained the old knack of judging. For severalyears he had played on his high-school team, and last spring he hadbeen elected captain. Besides this he had played with and captainedthe Camp Chicora team for the past two summers. Dan, too, was by thistime a fairly experienced player. At school he was only the substitutepitcher, but in spite of that he was pretty clever. At Chicora he haddone excellent service the past summer in the box, and he and Bob hadcomprised a very formidable battery. During practice he warmed up bypitching to the Mannig catcher, a long, lanky youth, named Conly, andit soon became evident that they were going to work together very well.
By half-p
ast two the grand stand was comfortably filled and theground around the diamond was well sprinkled with spectators. Quitea contingent had followed the blue players from Mannig, and theirear-splitting yell was heard continuously. At a few minutes beforethe half-hour Mannig gave up the field to Laurelville, and thegreen-and-white-stockinged players trotted out for practice.
When it was twenty minutes of three the Mannig manager returned tothe bench where his players were seated and announced that the umpirehadn’t turned up, and that it had been decided to wait until the nexttrain came in.
“When does it get here?” asked Burns.
“Two-fifty-six,” was the answer.
“Gee! That’ll make it mighty late!”
“Yes, but that’s the only thing to do, I guess.”
So they waited. Presently the Laurelville team came off, and theaudience on the stand began to inquire, in the polite manner common tobaseball audiences, why the game didn’t start. At ten minutes afterthree the tardy official, a little, round red-cheeked man, put in hisappearance, and at twenty minutes after three called “Play!”
Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway Page 17
