“Take your time, Sam!” yelled Tom. “Make him give it to you where you want it!”
Whether Sam heard the cry or not it would be hard to say, but he let the next ball go by, and then repeated this action.
“Ball two!” called the umpire.
“Oh, say! That was all right!” grumbled the Roxley catcher. “What do you want?”
“Too far out,” returned the umpire sharply, and then added: “Play ball!”
The next one was a straight drive, and Sam swung at it with all the strength and skill he possessed.
Crack! The ashen stick hit the leather, and the sphere went sailing far down into center field.
“Go it, Rover, go it!”
“Come on in, Orben!”
Paul Orben, who had been the player to reach second, was already streaking up to third, and by the time Sam reached first Paul was legging it for the home plate.
“Throw that ball up here! Throw that ball up!” yelled the second baseman to the center fielder, who was still chasing after the bouncing leather.
Then amid a cloud of dust Paul slid in over the home plate while Sam, having reached second, was legging it rapidly for third. Up came the ball from the field to second, and then to third, but before it got there the youngest Rover was safely clutching the bag.
“Whoop! Hurrah! That’s the way to do it! One run in and another on the way.”
“Keep it up, Brill! You’ve struck your winning streak!”
“Oh, dear! I do hope Sam can bring that run in!” came from Grace.
“It might have been a home run if he had only run a little faster,” remarked Chester Waltham.
“Faster!” retorted Tom, quickly. “Why, he legged it like greased lightning! Most players would have gotten only two bags out of that hit.”
Following this batting came another out, but then the next man up managed to reach first, and amid a wild cheering on the part of the Brillites, and a loud tooting of horns, Sam rushed over the home plate.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Another run!”
“That makes the score four to five!”
“Keep up the good work, Brill!”
But that was the end of the run getting for the time being. Then Roxley came to the bat, and amid the most intense feeling Jack Dudley managed to pitch out three men in succession and the score went up on the board: Brill 4—Roxley 5.
“Now, fellows, this is our last chance,” said Bob, as the team came in for the ninth inning. “Remember, one run will tie the score and two runs may win the game. Now every man up on the job.”
The first batter for Brill in the ninth inning was plainly nervous. He let two good balls go by and thereby had two strikes called on him. Then he made a wild pass at the next ball, knocking a short foul which the first baseman for Roxley gathered in by a sensational running leap.
“One man gone! One man gone!” chanted the Roxley followers. “Now, then, get the other two.”
“Take your time, boys, take your time,” cried Bob. “Make them give you just what you want.”
This advice was heeded, and as a result the next man got to first and on another one-base hit managed to reach third. Then came a one-bag drive that brought in a run and took the man on first to second.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! That ties the score!”
“Keep it up, Brill! Bring in all the runs you can!”
Following the bringing in of the tying run, there came some field play between the pitcher and the basemen, and as a result the man who had reached first was called out trying to steal second. In the mean time the other runner tried to steal home, but had to stay on third.
“Be careful, boys, be careful,” pleaded Bob, and then a few seconds later came another base hit which brought in another run.
“Good! Good! That’s the way to do it, Brill!”
“That makes the score six to five in favor of Brill!”
“Bring in half a dozen more while you are at it!”
“Hold them down. Don’t let them get another run,” pleaded the captain of Roxley’s nine to his men.
“We’re going to make a dozen more,” announced Tom Rover, gaily. But this was not to be, and a few minutes later the inning came to an end with the score standing: Brill 6—Roxley 5.
“Now, then, Roxley, one run to tie the score and two to win the game!” was the cry from the visitors.
“Lam out a couple of homers!”
“Show ’em where the back fence is!”
In that ninth inning Roxley came to the bat with a “do-or-die” look.
“Now watch yourself, Dudley,” whispered Bob to the pitcher. “Don’t let them rattle you.”
“They are not going to rattle me,” answered Dudley. Yet it was plainly to be seen that the sophomore was nervous, and that the strain of the situation was beginning to tell upon him. Nevertheless, amid a wild cheering on the part of Brill, he struck out the first man up.
“That’s the way to do it, Brill!”
“It’s all over but the shouting!” shrieked one Brill sympathizer.
“Not much! Here is where we make half a dozen runs!” yelled a Roxleyite.
The next batter up was a notoriously hard hitter. Dudley was afraid to give him something easy, and as a consequence the pitcher had four balls called on him and the batter went to first. Then came a drive to center field which took the man on first to second, while the batter reached first with ease.
“That’s the way to do it, Roxley! Now you’ve got ’em going!”
With only one man out and two men on bases, Jack Dudley was more nervous than ever. Yet Bob did not have the heart to take him out of the box, and, besides, he had no pitcher on hand who was any better.
“Hold ’em down, Dudley! Hold ’em down!” pleaded the captain. “Don’t feed ’em any easy ones.” And the pitcher nodded grimly, being too nervous to even answer.
A ball was called and then a strike. Then Dudley fed the batter a straight one. Crack! The ashen stick met the sphere and sent it along just inside the third base line.
“Run! Everybody run!” was the yell from the Roxley contingent, and while the batter dropped his stick and sped toward first, the man on that bag legged it for second and the man on second rushed madly toward third.
For one brief instant it looked as if one, and possibly two, runs would be scored. But then, Sam, playing a little off third, made a wild leap into the air and pulled down the ball. Next, like a flash, he tagged the man sliding in toward the third bag.
“Batter out! Runner out!” announced the umpire.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Brill wins the game!”
“Say! that was a dandy catch by Rover, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. And how neatly he put that runner out, too!”
And then as the score, Brill 6—Roxley 5, was placed on the big board a wild yelling, tooting of horns, and sounding of rattles rent the air. Once more Brill had vanquished its old opponent.
And everybody said that Sam Rover was the hero of the occasion.
CHAPTER XVIII
GOOD-BYE TO BRILL
The celebration at Brill that evening was one long to be remembered. Bonfires blazed along the river front, and the students marched around them, and around the campus and the college buildings, singing songs and having a good time generally.
The others had insisted that the Rovers take part in these festivities, and so the boys had taken the girls to Hope, where Dora and Nellie were to remain until the next day.
“I must say I am mighty glad I came,” said Dick to his brothers, as he surveyed the shouting and marching students. “This certainly takes me back to the days when I was here.”
“I’m going in for some fun,” announced Tom, and was soon in the midst of the activities. The students played jokes on William Philander Tubbs, old Filbury, and on a number of other
s, and the fun-loving Rover helped them all he could. An attempt was also made to get the captured banners of the freshmen and sophomores from Sam’s room, but this failed.
“The boys are rather noisy tonight,” said one of the professors to Dr. Wallington.
“I agree with you, sir,” returned the head of Brill, “but then they have something to be noisy about. Their victory was certainly well earned,” and the doctor smiled indulgently.
Many had come forward to congratulate Sam on his fine work in putting through a double play unassisted in the last inning.
“It saved the day for Brill,” announced Stanley, and many agreed with him.
The great game had taken place on Saturday afternoon, so, as the next day was Sunday, Sam could do as he pleased. The Rovers had an early breakfast, and then lost no time in riding over to the seminary, where they found the others waiting for them.
“Oh, Sam, your playing was simply wonderful!” declared Grace, as she beamed on him. “How you ever caught that fly in the last inning is beyond me.”
“Yes, and what do you think?” put in Grace’s sister. “Mr. Waltham said he thought it was quite an ordinary play—that any good, all-around player could have done what Sam did!”
“Maybe he was a bit jealous of Sam,” was Dora’s comment, and as she spoke she looked rather keenly at Grace, who, of a sudden, blushed deeply.
“I suppose Waltham brought his sister and those girls back here last evening,” said Sam.
“Oh, yes,” answered Nellie, “and they insisted that we join them in a little treat. Mr. Waltham drove down to Ashton for some ice cream, fancy crackers and candy, and we had quite a spread under the trees. It certainly was very nice of him to do it.”
“I suppose he’s got so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it,” was Dick’s comment.
“He was asking me about that tour that we propose taking this summer,” said Dora. “He added that he and his sister and maybe others were going to take a tour in his new car, but he hadn’t decided on where they were going, and he thought it might be rather jolly if he joined our touring party.”
“Humph! I don’t see—” began Sam, and then broke off suddenly.
“It would be lovely to have Ada along,” said Grace. “She is a splendid girl, and we’ve become quite chummy since Nellie and Dora went away.”
“Well, we haven’t any time to settle about that tour just now,” announced Dick. “Our train leaves in a couple of hours and you girls have got to pack up before we start for the Ashton depot.”
The mention of Chester Waltham, along with the fact that he might join them on their proposed automobile tour, put rather a damper on Sam’s feelings. He acted very soberly, and his remarks to Grace were not half as cordial as they usually were. Evidently Sam’s “nose was out of joint,” although he was not willing to admit it, even to himself.
All drove down to the Ashton depot, and there Sam and Grace said good-bye to the others, who were going on to the home farm at Valley Brook and then to New York City. On the return to the seminary Sam had hoped to have a long talk and an understanding with Grace, but unfortunately two girls turned up who wished to get back to Hope, and there was nothing for the Rover boy to do but to invite them to ride along, so that the confidential talk between them had to be abandoned.
After the great ball game matters quieted down at Brill. All of the seniors were hard at work getting ready for the final examinations, which would start on the week following.
“If you make as good a showing in the examinations as you made on the ball field, you sure will prove a winner,” declared Bob to Sam one day.
“Well, I’m going to do my level best, Bob,” was the reply. “You see, neither Dick nor Tom had a chance to graduate, so I’ve got to make a showing for the entire family.”
During those days nothing further had been heard regarding Blackie Crowden or the missing money. Sam and Songbird had met Belright Fogg once on the streets of Ashton, but the lawyer had marched past without deigning to speak to them.
“He’s a foxy customer,” was the comment of the would-be poet of Brill. “If he had anything to do with Blackie Crowden, he’ll try his level best to keep it to himself.”
At last the examinations began. They were to continue for the best part of two weeks, and during that time Sam cut out all sports and confined himself to his studies with greater diligence than ever. He had several important papers to hand in, and he worked over these early and late, rewriting and polishing until there seemed to be absolutely nothing more that could be done. Songbird also was busy, for in addition to his studies and themes he had been asked by the class to write a poem in honor of the coming occasion.
“I only wish I could write something that would bring in some cash,” remarked the would-be poet one afternoon.
Although he had not apprised Sam of that fact, Songbird had copied off several of his best poems and sent them to various publishers, hoping that they might prove acceptable and bring in some money which he might turn over to Mr. Sanderson as an evidence of what he hoped to do in the future. So far, however, he had not heard from any of the poems but one, which had been promptly returned.
At last came the day when the examinations ended. All the themes written by the students had been handed in, and Sam found himself free to do as he pleased. He at once sought Grace by means of the telephone, hoping to get her to take an automobile ride with him.
“I am sorry,” she answered over the wire, “but I have still another examination to take and a theme to finish, so I don’t dare to think of going out.”
“How have you made out so far?” questioned the youth.
“I don’t know, Sam. Sometimes I think I have done very well, and then again I am afraid that I missed a great many things. How did you make out?”
“Oh, I think I’ll pass, but how high up I don’t know. I am hoping for great things, but I may be mistaken.” And there the conversation had to come to an abrupt end, for a professor came in to use the Brill telephone.
It must be confessed that Sam slept rather uneasily on the night before the morning on which the announcement concerning each student’s standing was to be made.
“I’m scared to death,” came from Spud. “I missed a whole lot of questions.”
“So did I,” put in Paul. “And I boned hard too,” he added dismally.
Finally came the announcement. Out of a class of sixty-five seniors, sixty-two had passed. Sam’s name was at the head of the list with a percentage of ninety-seven; Songbird came fourth with a percentage of ninety-three; Spud had ninety-one, and Stanley the same; while Paul, William Philander Tubbs and a number of others were listed at from eighty to eighty-eight per cent.
“Sam, allow me to congratulate you!” cried Songbird, as he came up to wring his friend’s hand. “You certainly made a splendid showing.”
“You made a pretty good showing yourself,” answered Sam, his face beaming.
“Your folks will be mighty glad to hear of this,” went on the would-be poet of Brill. “Why don’t you telegraph to them?”
“Just what I’m going to do,” answered the Rover boy. “And I’m going to telephone to Hope, too,” he added.
“That’s the talk. I wish I could telephone over to the Sandersons.”
“Never mind, Songbird, I’ll drive you over there when I drive to the seminary,” replied Sam.
The days to follow were delightful ones for Sam. True to his promise, he took Songbird over to the Sanderson homestead and then visited Grace. The girl had passed third from the top of her class and was correspondingly delighted.
“We had such dreadfully hard questions I thought I should never get through,” she confessed to the youth when they were alone. “And you came out on top, Sam. Oh, it’s wonderful—simply wonderful!” and she caught both his hands.
“Well, I’m glad—g
lad for myself and glad for you, Grace,” he answered, and looked her full in the eyes. She looked at him in return and blushed prettily.
“Oh, Mr. Rover, allow me to congratulate you,” came from somebody near by, and Ada Waltham came tripping up. “Grace told me all about your wonderful showing.”
“Ada made a splendid showing herself,” answered Grace, before Sam could speak.
“I was one point behind Grace,” answered the rich girl, “and that certainly was wonderful for me. I never was very keen about studying—in fact, I didn’t want to go to college, only I had to do it if I wanted to inherit the money that my uncle left me.”
“Oh, Sam! and to think our days of studying are over at last!” burst out Grace. “I can scarcely believe it.”
“I can’t believe it myself, Grace,” he answered. “It seems to me I’ve been going to school all my life. Just think of the years and years I put in at Putnam Hall Military Academy before I came to Brill!”
“Yes, and to think of the years I put in at the Cedarville school before I came to Hope,” returned Grace. “Now it is all over I feel quite old,” and she laughed merrily.
As was the usual custom, it had been decided that graduation exercises at Hope should take place two days before those at Brill, which would give ample opportunity for those desiring to do so to attend both functions.
“My folks are all coming to the graduations,” announced Grace, a day or two after the conversation just recorded.
“Yes, and my folks will all be on hand,” answered Sam. “Even Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha are coming. Dear, old Aunt Martha!” he said. “She has been a regular mother to us boys ever since I can remember. I’m awfully glad she will be present, and I’ll be mighty glad to have Uncle Randolph too, not to say anything about dear, old dad.”
After that there seemed to be so much to do and so many things to think about that time sped with amazing swiftness. The Rovers and the Lanings had engaged rooms at the leading hotel in Ashton, and arrived on the day previous to the graduation exercises at Hope.
“Tell you what, education is a great thing!” remarked Mr. John Laning when speaking of the matter to Mr. Rover. “I didn’t have much of a chance at it when I was a boy—I had to go out and scrap for a living—but I’m mighty glad that I had the means to give the girls the learning they’ve got.”
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