CHAPTER VIIITHE PEACE EMBASSY
Maple Ridge played her second game that afternoon, winning from Warrenton High School, 11 to 5. Jack played in left field during the last four innings, and did very well; so well, in fact, that Cook, who was Jack’s competitor for the position of first substitute, was a bit worried. Cook was only a fair batsman, and, although he had been playing ball for three years, seemed unable to improve. Jack, on the other hand, was beginning to show an ability with the stick that for an inexperienced player was almost startling. In the Warrenton game he made two hits, one a clean liner past second and the other of the scratch variety, and when the game was over had a run to his credit besides. In the field he had two chances and got them both. Hal Morris pitched the first three innings, and, while Warrenton touched him up pretty freely,he was able to hold the opponents down to four hits. Although Mort Prince didn’t say so, I believe he was secretly regretful that he had connived at the kidnapping of Sam, since if it hadn’t been for Sam’s absence from the field the preceding Saturday Morris would, perhaps, have never proved what he was capable of. Still, there were many games ahead, and Maple Ridge had full need of all the pitchers she could find.
After school on Monday, Chester Harris drove the Peace Embassy, as they called themselves, to Farmer Finkler’s. Chester had provided a two-seated carriage and a stylish roan, which, it was hoped, would attract Mr. Finkler’s admiration and perhaps soften his heart. They had to drive nearly a half-mile, for, although the Finkler property and the school grounds adjoined, yet the farmer’s residence was at the end of a long lane, and his entrance was some distance up the road from the school.
On the way they rehearsed their programme. Chester was to remain outside. Dolph was to ask to see Mr. Finkler, and he and Prentiss and Walker were to enter. Dolph was to do thetalking, although it was agreed that the others were to stand by and be ready with their voices in case of an emergency. The proceedings were to be conducted with much dignity and politeness. The situation demanded diplomacy.
But, alas for all their preparations! The roan danced stylishly up the lane, between apple-trees already showing signs of blossoming, and stopped in front of the doorway. Rowdy, evidently not suspecting that the carriage held ancient enemies, arose from the lawn and wagged his tail in welcome. Rowdy was a brown dog. There were various theories as to his breed. Some declared him to be a collie; others were equally certain that he was a water spaniel. All, however, agreed that he was not to be trifled with. Dolph, who descended first from the carriage, observed him attentively as he lowered his legs within reach. But Rowdy only stood off across the drive and wagged his tail slowly and inquiringly.
“Nice dog,” murmured Dolph ingratiatingly, as he turned to the steps.
“Brute!” said Chester.
“Don’t call him names, please,” begged Prentiss, as he prepared to follow Dolph. “He might understand you. It’s all well enough for you, Chesty, but kindly remember that we are unprotected.”
The house was a large, rambling affair, immaculately clean and white. At a little distance were a stable and a barn, and beyond were paddocks in which a number of horses and colts were ambling about. Big elms shaded the buildings, a glimpse of fertile fields and meadows showing beyond, and altogether Farmer Finkler’s place looked prosperous and attractive. There was an old-fashioned knocker on the front door, and with the expression of one about to enter a den of lions, Dolph raised it and beat a faint tattoo. That was the signal for Rowdy to bark, and the boys looked around nervously. But evidently the dog only meant to aid them in summoning the inmates, for he still wagged his tail and kept at a respectful distance. The door was opened by a young girl of about fourteen or fifteen, a decidedly pretty girl, too, as Dolph, who wassusceptible to feminine attractions, enthusiastically proclaimed afterwards. She had shimmery brown hair and violet-blue eyes, and a slightly tip-tilted nose. At present the eyes were politely inquiring, as she stood in the dimness of the hall holding the door open and facing the visitors.
“How do you do?” began Dolph, after his first surprise. “Is—is Mr. Finkler at home, please?”
“No, sir; my father is away just now,” was the answer.
“Oh!” said Dolph vaguely.
As he showed no disposition to add to this clever remark, Prentiss entered the field.
“Will he be home soon, Miss?” he asked. The girl shook her head. She had begun to blush a little, which was not to be wondered at, considering that Dolph was still staring at her.
“He has gone to New York. I don’t expect him back until Thursday.”
“Oh!” said Prentiss. Whereupon Walker took up the burden of conversation.
“We’re very sorry to have missed him,” he said in relieved tones and with a broad smile on his face.
“Is there—is there any message I can give him?” asked Miss Finkler.
“N—no, thanks. We—we called to see him about——”
“About a matter of business,” interrupted Dolph, emerging from his trance and smiling engagingly at the young lady. “We will call again.”
“Yes, we’ll call again,” echoed Prentiss.
“Sure,” agreed Walker, backing away from the door.
“Much obliged,” said Dolph. “Good—good morning.”
“Good afternoon,” replied the girl. “If it is very important, I can give you his address in New York.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” said Prentiss. “It—it isn’t that important. It was only about——”
“About some business,” said Dolph helpfully. “We’ll come again after he returns. Good mor—good afternoon.”
The door closed and the boys returned to the carriage.
“Wasn’t she pretty?” demanded Dolph, as they climbed back to their seats.
“Stunning!” agreed Prentiss. “I don’t see, though, why it was necessary for you to break in every time I tried to talk to her.”
“Dolph was trying to make a hit,” said Walker. Dolph stroked an imaginary mustache and smiled engagingly.
“I shall ask her to the Class Day Dance,” he announced. The others jeered.
“I see you doing it!” said Chester. “Old Finkler would scalp you!”
“Oh, by that time he and I will be great chums,” replied Dolph. “I shall cultivate his acquaintance. Might have done it before if I’d known he had such a pretty daughter.”
“Wonder,” remarked Walker, glancing regretfully back at the house, as they turned into the road, “why we never knew about her. She’s the prettiest girl around here!”
“Rather young, though,” said Prentiss superiorly.
“Y-yes,” Walker agreed.
“Young for you chaps,” said Dolph, “but I’m only seventeen. I think she rather liked me, too. Did you see her blush?”
“Why wouldn’t she, when you were staring her out of countenance?” asked Prentiss unkindly.
“As a matter of fact,” remarked Chester Harris, “she was looking at me most of the time.”
“Huh! If she looked your way at all, it was probably the horse she noticed. Thehorseis good-looking, Chesty.”
“Oh, well, you’re no Adonis yourself, Dolph,” growled Chester.
“Too bad we couldn’t find Finkler,” said Prentiss in tones expressing vast relief.
“Yes; I’m broken-hearted,” said Walker. “Hit up that nag of yours, Chesty, and get us home.”
“We’ll have to go again,” declared Dolph firmly.
“Oh, of course,” Prentiss agreed vaguely. “When did she say he would be home?”
“Thursday, I think.”
“Wasn’t it a week from Thursday?” inquired Walker innocently.
“It was not.” This from Dolph very sternly. “We’ll call again on Friday.”
“Not for me,” Prentiss declared. “Friday’s a very unlucky day.”
“Only for journeys.”
“Well, it’s a journey to Finkler’s isn’t it? I might be able to go Saturday, though.”
“Then we’ll say Saturday morning,” declared Dolph. “Don’t you chaps try to get out of it.”
The others made no answer and Dolph viewed them suspiciously. “Hear?” he demanded.
“Oh, yes, we hear. Of course, we haven’t any idea of getting out of it. I should say not! ‘See your duty and do it,’ is our motto, isn’t it, Steve?”
Walker agreed that it was, adding that he hoped it wouldn’t rain Saturday morning. At which Prentiss and Chester laughed, and Dolph grunted disgustedly.
“You fellows would like me to do this whole thing alone, I guess,” he observed bitterly.
“Not if you don’t want to,” replied Walker sweetly. “We only thought that perhaps you’d like to go by yourself. You see, Dolph, you’d make more of an impression on Miss Finkler if Thorp and I were not present with our fatal beauty.”
But when Saturday morning came, Steve Walker couldn’t be found, and Prentiss refused to go without him. On the following Monday it was Dolph who couldn’t get away, and so the visit was put off and delayed until a whole fortnight had gone by, by which time Walker and Prentiss had lost interest in the matter and even Dolph showed a strong inclination to let things slide. Dolph had sufficient excuse, however, for the captain of the Baseball Team has plenty of work and plenty of problems to keep him busy. In that fortnight Maple Ridge played four games, winning two and tying one. The latter contest, with Dixon Academy, ran to twelve innings, and then was called, with the score 8 to 8. That was Maple Ridge’s fifthgame of the year, and in it the home team showed a vast improvement over its work in the Charlemont game. The single defeat was suffered at the hands of Blue Ledge School, Maple Ridge being shut out without a run, and with only three hits to her credit. But Blue Ledge was a big school, and its baseball team was a rattling aggregation of hard-hitting fellows, who averaged two years more than Maple Ridge in the matter of age. Sam pitched the entire contest, and was lucky to hold the opponents down to seven hits and four runs.
It was in the following game, that with Holt School, that Jack finally ousted Cook from the position of first substitute right fielder. It was a close game all the way, with the score seesawing back and forth for six innings, first Holt and then Maple Ridge being in the lead. The seventh began with Holt one run ahead. It ended with Maple Ridge leading by two tallies, 9 to 7. Mort Prince, who was pitching, held the enemy scoreless the first half of the eighth. Maple Ridge was unable to add to her figures in the last half. In the first of the ninth, Prince weakened.A pass put a man on first; a sacrifice bunt advanced him to second. The next batter was out on an infield fly. With two down, a slow grounder to Cassart at third put a man on first and advanced the first runner to third. The man on first stole on the first ball pitched. Holt’s centre fielder, a powerful hitter, was up. Dolph signaled Prince to pass him, and Mort began to throw wide of the plate. All went well until three balls had been sent in. Then Prince slipped up and sent one that cut the edge of the plate. The batter, who resented being passed, leaned against it, and it went sailing out to short left field, well over third baseman’s head, and yet so close behind him that Jack, who had been playing in left since the beginning of the sixth inning, was unable to reach it, although he came running in at top speed. As it was, the ball struck the ground two yards in front of him, just as the man from third crossed the plate. Jack got the ball on the bound, poised and made a hard, straight throw to the plate, just in the nick of time to head off the second runner, who was tryinghis best to bring in the tying run. It was a nice bit of fielding, and the Maple Ridge supporters cheered long and loudly as Jack trotted in, peeling off his glove.
“That was a dandy throw-in you made,” said Sam later. “As straight as an arrow, Jack, and right into Dolph’s mitt.”
“Well,” replied Jack modestly, “I saw I couldn’t catch that fly, so I slowed up for the bound. The man from second was just leaving third then, and I heaved as quick as I knew how. And when I did throw, Sam, I remembered what you’d told me and I kept my eyes and my mind on Dolph; and I said to that ball, ‘Get there!’”
“And it got!” laughed Sam. “And I dare say, it saved us a licking, or, at any rate, another tie game. You keep on improving, Jack, and you’ll make Tyler hustle to keep his place.”
“I guess I’ll never be as good as Wicks is,” answered Jack. “He seems to know just where the ball is going the minute it leaves the bat.”
“So will you when you’ve played as long as he has. Study the game, Jack. Keep at it.”
“Of course. It’s pretty good fun, anyway, even if I don’t get into the big games.”
“Well, you keep on batting as well as you have been, and you’ll do that, too. You’ve got Cook settled already, I guess.”
Sam was right, for in the next game but one Jack went in at the start, Tyler Wicks being on the hospital list for the time, and played such a good game that Mr. Shay put on his thinking-cap and tried to find a place for Jack in the regular line-up. A day or two later, in practice, Jack was surprised to find himself in right field, a position that had been fairly well filled by Watkins, with Joe Williams as substitute. After he had grown accustomed to the change of territory, Jack did well enough there, the only thing that bothered him being the disconcerting proximity of Farmer Finkler’s stone wall, which lay close at his left. Once or twice a long fly from Mr. Shay’s bat sent him almost up to the wall, and any player knows how difficult it is to keep one’s mind on the ball when one is expecting at any instant to collide with such an unyielding obstacle as a wall or fence. Afterthat, Jack played in right and left, and, once or twice, in centre, and it was plain to be seen that Mr. Shay was training him for an all-around outfielder. This didn’t please Jack very well, for he preferred having a settled goal to strive for. Besides, a utility man, which he was fast becoming, was quite as likely as not to adorn the bench when the important games came along. But Jack worked away cheerfully enough, and did what he was told to the best of his ability. Only to Sam did he voice his regret.
“I’d rather he’d left me in left field, Sam. Then I might have got into a part of a game now and then. As it is, with Wicks ahead of me, and Watkins and Williams and Truesdale, why, I don’t see where I come in!”
“Don’t you? I do. Shay’s going to use you for a substitute outfielder, Jack, and a pinch-hitter. That’s why he’s been keeping you at the net all the afternoon. You’ve got a sort of lucky way of connecting with the ball that Shay takes a fancy to. Don’t you worry, chum, you’ll get your show all right. Being a generalhandy man won’t keep you from falling into a regular place when the place is ready. Meanwhile, what you want to do is to bat and bat and then some. You’ve got a good eye, old man, and you’re going to make a fine old hitter some day. And I’m glad I discovered you!”
“So am I,” laughed Jack. “I’m a grand discovery.”