CHAPTER XXI.DARRELL REDEEMS HIMSELF.
Never had any visiting team been more confident of success on Fardale field than was Fairport when she faced the cadets on Wednesday. The assurance of her supporters was demonstrated by the large number of rooters who came with the team.
Both sides lined up for the contest just as they had on Saturday. For Fardale, Darrell was again at short, in spite of suspicions and doubts.
Fairport went first to bat.
“No shower to-day!” laughed Roberts, as Crockett walked out to the plate, his bat on his shoulder. “There will be no such good luck for poor old Fardale!”
“Dern your picter!” squeaked Obediah Tubbs. “Mebbe you will be wishing for a shower before this game is over.”
Dick was in the pitcher’s box.
“Right off—start right off, captain!” cried Black, from left field.
“Put hit hover!” urged Billy. “’E can’t ’it hanything!”
“Try his eye, old boy—try his eye!” urged Darrell.
“He is a mark,” averred Singleton.
“Right there, pard—right there!” said Buckhart, holding up his mitt.
Chester Arlington and Mel Fraser were sitting side by side. Chester smiled derisively, and observed:
“For a dead cold fact, Merriwell beats anything I ever saw. I reckoned he would be furious with Darrell, but he is letting the fellow into this game. Wouldn’t that give you chilblains?”
“Do you suppose he knows what Darrell tried to do?” asked Mel Fraser.
“Oh, he has sense enough to know that!”
“Then why has he given him another show?”
“Ask me! I will never tell. There they go!”
Dick delivered the first ball and Crockett fouled it.
“That’s touching him!” chuckled Roberts. “You’ll hit it on the trade-mark next time, Crock!”
The batter did hit the next ball, but it was one of those exasperating pop flies which fell into Bradley’s hands, and Crockett retired to the bench.
“Start us off, Dustan!” urged Roberts. “Give us a hit here! Let’s clinch the game in the first inning.”
Up popped Ted Smart on the bleachers.
“Please don’t make too many runs in the first inning!” he entreated. “Please don’t make more than ten or fifteen runs in this inning! Just give us a little show! Don’t bury us at the very start! It isn’t fair.”
Dustan proved to be a good waiter and finally compelled Dick to put the ball over. He then sent a swift one skimming along the ground, and Tubbs failed to stop it. It was a safe hit.
“Here we go!” yelled Milliken, as he capered down to the coaching line. “We’re off! We’re off!”
“Don’t mind that, captain,” said Darrell. “It doesn’t amount to anything!”
Roberts was ready to strike.
“I wish he’d drive a hot one down to Darrell!” muttered Arlington. “You’d see Darrell let it go. I will bet my life on that.”
Even as he spoke he had his wish. Roberts hit a savage grounder in Darrell’s direction. It was not straight at Hal, but some distance to one side. Apparently it could not be touched, although Darrell made a spring for it.
“Clean hit!” burst from Arlington.
A second later he gasped in astonishment, for Darrell had flung himself at full length on the ground, with one hand outstretched, and stopped the ball. Not only did he stop it, but it stuck fast in his fingers, and he sat up instantly with it in his possession.
Without making an attempt to rise, Darrell snapped the ball to Tubbs, who had covered second.
Dustan was off first and away toward second even before bat and ball met. Nevertheless, Darrell’sastonishingastonishingstop and snap throw to Tubbs was so rapidly performed that Dustan was out “on a force.” He saw this and remained on his feet in an endeavor to bother Tubbs so he could not throw to first; but Tubbs sent the ball whistling past the fellow’s ear so close that Dustan felt the wind from it.
Straight into Singleton’s big mitt sped the ball, and then the umpire was heard crying:
“Out at second! Out at first!”
Darrell’s astounding stop of that hot grounder had enabled him to take part in a most brilliant double play. Those who had expected to see Darrell do something quite different were electrified. Instantlythe cadets burst forth into a cheer over this sensational piece of work.
“Well, what do you think of that?” gasped Mel Fraser, nudging Arlington.
Chester sat still a moment without replying, but finally said:
“He’s got a long head on him. He did it to fool them. Just wait and see if he doesn’t do something to lose this game before it is over. He will if he has a chance.”
Zona, Doris, and June were together in the grand stand, and apparently Hal’s play had filled them all with the greatest enthusiasm and admiration.
“Wasn’t it splendid!” breathed Doris, her eyes shining.
“I didn’t think he could stop it,” confessed Zona.
“I don’t see how he did stop it,” asserted June. “I thought it was past him before he flung himself on the ground.”
“And then the way he threw it without getting up!” laughed Doris. “Oh, Hal! I am proud of you!”
“I wish we had Bessie here,” said Zona. “We’d show her to-day!”
Fardale came in to the bench, and Dick walked at Hal’s side.
“That was one of the finest stops I ever saw, Darrell,” he said.
“Thank you,” answered Hal. “I was afraid I couldn’t get it.”
“And I never had an idea you could touch it; but you did, and that double play was a fancy one.”
At first Don Roberts had seemed too astounded tosay anything; but now, as he took his position on the field, he cried:
“That’s all right, fellows! They can’t have that rabbit’s-foot luck all through the game. Just get right after them now!”
Jack Ware threw a few swift ones to Anson to limber up his arm. As Black reached the plate and took his position, Ware whirled and delivered the ball.
It was a swift, high one, and Barron did his best to meet it, but failed.
“One strike!”
Behind Ware the visitors chattered away like a flock of magpies.
“Keep him fanning, old boy!”
“Put ’em right over!”
“He can’t touch you!”
“He’s fruit! He’s fruit!”
“Got your speed to-day, Jack!”
“Oh, what fancy work!”
Ware worked carefully with Black until three balls and two strikes were called. Suddenly he delivered that big out-rise, and, believing it was a straight ball, Barron made the mistake of swinging for it.
“You’re out!” declared the umpire, as the ball plunked into Warren’s mitt.
“That’s the first one, Jack!”
“Got him easy.”
“The others are just as easy!”
“Keep ’em going.”
“They will never touch you to-day.”
“Let’s see ’ow ’e does hit!” muttered Bradley, as hegot into position. “Let’s see hif ’e can do the same trick with me!”
It began to seem that Ware would repeat the performance with Bradley, for Billy slashed at the first ball and missed it, then let the second one pass, only to hear a strike declared.
“Got him in a hole!” shouted Roberts. “Got him foul, Jack, old boy!”
As two strikes and no balls were called, the Fairport pitcher immediately began to try to “work” Billy. Bradley was wise, and, although he pretended to be eager to get a hit, he let the bad ones pass. In this manner three balls were called in succession.
“Make him put it over this time, Bradley!” cried Dick.
Ware faced the alternative of putting the ball over the plate or letting Billy “walk.” Knowing this, he endeavored to get one over; but, as often happens with the best of pitchers, he failed. Bradley declined to swing and was given a “pass.”
Flint strode out to the plate.
“Dern their picters!” squealed Obediah Tubbs, prancing up and down on the coach line back of first. “We’ve got ’em guessing now! Get a lead, Bradley. Let him throw it over. He can’t catch you in a year.”
In order to hold the runner close to first, Ware snapped the ball over to Anson twice before delivering it to the batter. When he did deliver it he tried a drop.
Now Flint was a bad man to deceive with a drop.When he got under one and hit it, he always lifted it a wonderfully long distance.
Knowing the batter’s ability for heavy hitting, the fielders had fallen back as soon as he came to the plate. Flint smashed the first ball a fearful crack, and away it slid toward the outfield.
“A fence ball!” shrieked Tubbs, in delight. “Git up and git, Bradley!”
Fearing the ball might be caught, Billy lingered near first; but now he fancied there was no chance that the fielder would capture it, and away he scooted.
Running in the same direction as the ball, Conway turned at the critical moment, looked over his shoulder, and saw it coming. He leaped high in the air and caught it. By this time Bradley had crossed second, and he was astonished when he heard Jolliby yelling at him from the coaching line near third.
“Gug-gug-gug-go back! Tut-tut-tut-turn round! He’s gug-gug-gug-got it!”
Stopping as quickly as possible, Bradley turned and saw Conway preparing to throw the ball into the diamond. Although Billy literally tore up the chalk along the base line in his endeavor to get back to first, he did not succeed, for the ball reached Anson’s hands ahead of him, and three men were out.
Neither side had scored in the first inning.
The five innings following were quite as exciting, and still neither side was able to get a man around the bases and across the rubber. It was not entirely a pitchers’ battle. At times both teams hit the ball, but the fast playing kept either Fardale or Fairport from scoring a tally. In critical moments Dick roseto the occasion, and his masterly pitching prevented the enemy from obtaining their object.
Jack Ware was also doing clever work. The home players came up time after time with determination in their eyes, resolved to bat out a victory. And time after time Ware, by his clever headwork, prevented them from accomplishing their purpose.
Hal Darrell had a remarkable number of “chances,” and he accepted them all. Indeed, his playing was one of the features of the game.
This remarkable work by Hal disturbed Arlington’s nerves and aroused his resentment.
“Well, look at the lobster! I believe he is actually trying to redeem himself for his rotten playing at Fairport.”
“He is not only trying,” said Fraser, “but he is doing it. The boys were all against him at the beginning of the game, and now they are all with him.”
Doris Templeton’s heart was beating with keenest satisfaction and joy. To her ears the cheers for Darrell were sweetest music.
“Just see, Zona!” she finally exclaimed. “Isn’t he doing splendid to-day?”
“Who? Brad?” asked Zona, who had been watching the clever work of the sturdy backstop from Texas.
“No! I mean Hal.”
“Oh, yes,” answered Zona. “He is playing a great game to-day. Don’t you think so, June?”
“I don’t believe I ever saw him pitch better,” said June.
“Pitch?” cried both girls. “Why, he isn’t pitching! He is playing shortstop.”
“Oh!” exclaimed June, getting quite red. “I—I mean—I mean I never saw him play better.”
But she did not deceive her companions. Both knew who had chained her attention.
In the seventh inning, after striking out Conway, the first batter, Dick saw Macon drive a hot grounder through Bradley and make two bags on the cockney youth’s error.
Immediately the Fairport rooters rose to their feet.
“This is the fatal seventh!” shouted one. “Here’s where we do the trick!”
This was followed by the Fairport cheer, and Milliken, the tall left-fielder, managed to connect with one of Dick’s drops, lifting it over the infield.
It was a safe hit, but should have carried Macon no farther than third base. Tubbs secured the ball and made a quick throw in an endeavor to nip Macon at third. Bradley was not expecting the throw, and did not see the ball until it was close upon him. He put up his hands, but misjudged it, and it struck his fingers without being stopped.
Billy was after the ball in a twinkling, but Macon saw his opening and scudded for the home plate. When Bradley caught the ball he made a desperate effort to shut the run off, but threw low, and on a bad bounce the sphere got past Buckhart.
Already Milliken had raced down to second, and now he pranced on to third, amid the wild cheering of the visitors.
“Blocked ball! Blocked ball!” was the shout. “Come home, Macon!”
The runner had paused at third, and now Buckhart whistled the ball to Dick, who remained in the box. At the same time Brad rushed back to the plate. Milliken fancied he saw his chance to score before Merriwell could return the ball to Buckhart, and he did his best to add another run to the one already obtained.
The Texan flew over the ground with giant strides. He got into position behind the bat and received the swift one that Merriwell sent humming into his mitt.
Macon threw himself forward in a desperate and beautiful slide for the rubber. At the same moment the stalwart catcher made a headlong dive at the runner and tagged him a moment before his hand reached the plate.
Merriwell had made no mistake in permitting Fairport to bring her umpire to Fardale. This fellow knew his business, and he was within eight feet of the plate when Brad tagged the sliding runner.
“You’re out!” he shouted.
Although the decision was rather close, there was no question about its justness, and the surprising success of this quick work brought a sharp cheer from the relieved cadets.
“Splendid work, Brad, old man!” laughed Dick, who had also dashed forward.
“Splendid work!” growled the Texan. “What were those crazy galoots shooting at? The way they threw the ball round was a howling shame! They simply presented Fairport with a run!”
“That can’t be helped, Brad.”
“Mebbe not, pard; but this is the kind of a game that one run may win.”
“We haven’t had our turn yet.”
“You will never get it to-day,” chuckled Anson, who was at bat.
“That’s what you think,” smiled Dick. “Fardale always has a show sometime during the game.”
Obediah Tubbs was walking round and round second base, a look of unspeakable disgust on his fat face.
“Be careful about careless throwing, boys,” was all Dick said in the way of a reprimand.
“Well,” said Mel Fraser, nudging Arlington, “they have scored at last.”
“Yes,” retorted Chester sourly; “but it wasn’t Merriwell’s fault, and it wasn’t Darrell’s fault.”
Encouraged by what had happened, Anson tried hard for a hit; but now Dick used both speed and curves, and Fairport’s lusty first baseman vainly fanned the air. The visitors were compelled to be content with one run in the seventh.
“Hold ’em down, Ware, my boy!” urged Roberts. “Let every man play for his life! We have them where we want them.”
In truth it seemed that Ware meant to hold Fardale down, for in the last half of the seventh he permitted only three hitters to face him, and only one of them connected with the ball. This fellow drove a weak grounder into the diamond and was thrown out before he could get much more than halfway to first.In the eighth Fairport again made a strong bid for a run; but, although one of the visitors reached second on a scratch hit and an error, he got no farther.
Jolliby was the first batter in the last half, and he brought the home crowd up in a twinkling with a beautiful line drive for two bags.
With his massive “slugger” in his hand, big Bob Singleton followed Chip to the plate.
Singleton hit the second ball pitched, and it went straight up into the air a most astounding distance. As it came down Warren found the task of judging it a most perplexing one. The ball twisted off to one side, and all fancied the Fairport catcher could not touch it. He made a sidelong spring, however, and it plunked into his big mitt. Singleton was out.
“Dern my picter! It’s up to me!” squeaked Tubbs, as he waddled out.
Ware knew Obediah was one of those erratic hitters who did the most surprising things at the most unexpected times, and now he tried hard to strike the fat boy out. Obed saw what the pitcher was endeavoring to accomplish, and wisely held back until Ware was forced to put the ball over. Then Tubbs fell on one of the swift ones, and away it flew into left field.
Milliken’s long legs carried him in front of the ball, and he held it. Without delay he lined it to Macon, and Jolliby was compelled to remain at second.
“That’s where you do it!” triumphantly shouted one of the Fairport crowd. “That’s where you surprise us!”
“’Old hon!” said Billy. “We ain’t done yet, don’t y’ hunderstand!”
Never in his life had Buckhart been more anxious for a hit. The very fact that he was so keenly anxious caused him to be deceived on the third strike by Ware, and he swung at a bad one. When he realized what had happened the Texan hurled down his bat in chagrin.
Fairport now had her last opportunity at bat, but her best hitters were easy for Merriwell, who was in his finest form. They were quickly retired, and the home team came to the bench.
Dick was the first hitter.
“Tap it out, captain,” urged Black, “and I will sacrifice you to second.”
Merriwell made no reply, but walked to the plate and dropped a clean hit over the infield.
On the instant the cadets were all up, cheering madly.
Black “made good” and cleverly sacrificed Dick to second.
“They are working hard for a run, Jack, my boy!” laughed Roberts, “but they will never get it off you! This game ends one to nothing!”
“Dern my picter!” cried Obediah Tubbs. “I wisht I thought it!”
But when Bradley failed to touch the ball in three efforts, and was out, all knew the situation was more than serious for Fardale.
The hopes of the cadets now centred on Flint.
Dave cracked a fierce one along the ground at Roberts. The captain of the visiting team made a dive for it, got his hands on it, but did not stop it cleanly. In fact, it got through him a distance of four or fivefeet before he could pick it up. Flint was on first and Merriwell had safely reached third.
“Darrell!” was the shout, as Hal walked out. He was almost deathly pale, but his hands were firm as iron as they gripped the bat.
His pallor was no more intense than Chester Arlington’s, who stood watching him near the grand stand.
Hal let the first ball pass, although it was straight over. He did it that Flint might get down to second, and Dave improved the opportunity. Warren made a bluff of throwing to Crockett, but simply returned the ball to Ware.
“A clean hit wins this game, Arlington,” said Mel Fraser.
“And this is Darrell’s time to throw Merriwell down,” returned Chester. “He will do it, too.”
When Hal swung and missed the next ball Chester was more confident than ever that the result he predicted would follow.
With two balls and two strikes called Hal went after one of Ware’s high straight ones. He met it full and fair and drove it on a line into the outfield. No fielder could reach it, and pandemonium followed, for Merriwell and Flint came home, and Darrell had won the game with a handsome two-bagger.
When the shouting cadets poured onto the field and made a rush toward the players they found Dick Merriwell at Darrell’s side. Dick was patting Hal on the shoulder and softly saying in his ear:
“Well done, old man! You redeemed yourself nobly to-day!”