CHAPTER XXVA DOUBLE UNASSISTED
At the end of the bench sat Frank Foley, sombre gaze fixed on the batsman. Joe, seeing him, felt sorry for his defeated rival and wondered whether Mr. Talbot would put him in for an inning or two. He surely deserved it, thought Joe. It was hard lines having to sit there all through the big game without even a chance to warm his hands! Only, he reflected, if Bat did put Foley in Jack would simply throw a fit! At that instant Foley happened to turn his head and their looks met. If Joe, averting his own glance quickly, had expected to find anger or antagonism in the other’s eyes he was wrong. Foley met his gaze impersonally, unsmilingly. They were still cheering lustily on the stands when Calvert shot the first ball in. Then the noise died away, to start again as the umpire called:
“Ball!”
Another ball followed. Then a low one that looked good from the bench and, it seemed, lookedgood to the umpire. Tom Pollock gravely studied the plate, took a new grip of his bat, and waited once more. The next effort was wild and the ball almost got past the catcher. Amesville shouted and jeered and the two coachers danced and waved and made noise any way they could. Again Calvert pitched, and once more the ball went wide.
“Four balls!” announced Mr. Reardon. “Take your base!”
“Here’s where we start!” cried Jack, excitedly thumping Joe’s knee. “Go to it, Gordon, old scout! You know what to do!”
“It’s the lucky seventh!” shouted the Amesville rooters ecstatically. “Smash it, Smith! Bring him in! Here we go, fellows!”
After that for many minutes Joe was too excited and anxious to know what was going on around him, although once during the subsequent proceedings he had a dim notion that Mr. John Hall and Coach Talbot were shaking hands and that Walter Cummings had fallen backwards over the water carboy! They were cheering Smith now as he faced the pitcher with “sacrifice bunt” written large all over him. But Smith wasn’t destined to sacrifice. Calvert simply wouldn’t allow him to. He, too, ambled to first on a freeticket and bedlam broke loose in the Amesville stand. Men on first and second with none out and only two runs needed to tie! This was indeed the lucky seventh! Then came Sid Morris, after listening to Coach Talbot’s instructions, and Sid was there to hit, as he soon proved by swinging at and missing two pretty poor balls. With the score two and two Fortune took a hand in the game. Calvert was noticeably nervous now and when the fifth delivery shot away from his hand—Sid had fouled off one—it twisted straight for the batsman. Sid stepped back, but not far enough, and the ball struck against his shoulder. He staggered away, dropping his bat and doubling over. But by the time two or three of his team-mates had leaped to his assistance he was smiling and shaking himself.
“All right,” he said over his shoulder as he trotted down the line.
That was the final undoing of Pitcher Calvert. Already the Petersburg second-choice twirler was warming up behind the first base stand. Calvert gazed anxiously around the filled bases, heard the frenzied shrieks of the coachers and the wild, disconcerting babel from the audience and faced the situation a bit wiltedly. The catcher soothed and reassured him from in front of the plateand Calvert tried his best to come back. But Jack laid his bat against the very first ball that came his way and off screeched a line drive into left field, scoring Tom and Gordon Smith and placing Sid on third. Jack took second on the throw-in.
Petersburg seemed inclined to stop the game then and there and have a consultation about it, but Umpire Reardon would allow no post-mortems. Calvert, the center of a group of dismayed players, yielded the ball and took that long walk from the box to the bench, cheered perfunctorily by friend and foe, and Gorman took up his task. Gorman was younger, smaller, and slighter, and that he didn’t at once stop the havoc being worked against Petersburg’s defences was not to be wondered at. Hale was now at bat and the hoarse cries of the Amesville fellows, mingled with the shrill shrieks of the coachers, whirled and eddied about his head, imploring him to clear the bases. In the meanwhile Petersburg’s coaches were rushing about, giving instructions to the fielders. Gorman had speed and lots of it, and Petersburg cheered loudly when his first offering cut the middle of the plate and went for a strike. But Hale was not to be denied and a moment later he connected with one ofGorman’s benders and lifted a high fly to deep left. The fielder made a nice running catch of it, but could not prevent Morris from scoring and putting the game at 5 to 4!
Amesville was now wild with excitement and hats and pennants were waving madly. With but one out and a run to the good the game seemed won, for Jack Strobe was dancing around at third ready to come across on any excuse. It was Peddie’s turn at bat, and Peddie, with one hit already to his credit, would surely be good for another. He was. The youngster let two wide ones go by him and then swung.Crackwent bat and ball and the latter sped out into left field, free of the outstretched hands of the fielders, and Jack romped home!
Six to four now, and still there was only one down! Amesville sang and shouted and tramped and waved flags and acted like so many happy lunatics. Down at second Peddie sat on the bag and recovered his breath while Gorman and Beale met for a conclave between plate and mound and Joe, gripping his bat, strode resolutely to the plate. One hit had been the portion of “Lucky” Faulkner that day, and one hit seemed very little to him. And so, when the game went on, he watched and waited craftily until Gorman hadtried him on two wide ones and scored a strike. Then Joe found what he wanted and smashed a drive toward third baseman and streaked to first. In the ordinary course of events that should have been the safest sort of a hit and should have put Peddie across the rubber and left Joe on first. But, as it happened, the Petersburg shortstop, who had all the afternoon performed remarkably, sprinted across at full speed and when the ball eluded the frantic glove of the third baseman, got it on the run and, without pausing, slammed it to the plate! It was a close decision, but the umpire waved Peddie out. That virtually ended the lucky seventh, for, although Joe went down to second and slid into the bag an instant ahead of the ball, Arthur Cummings proved an easy victim to Gorman’s skill.
So, with the score 6 to 4, Petersburg went desperately to bat in the eighth while the shadows lengthened across the diamond and the crowd on the stand began to dribble down to the field. Joe made the first out in that inning, taking a sizzling drive from Catcher Beale’s bat. After that Smith threw out the centre fielder and Pitcher Gorman got a life on Smith’s fumble of his grounder and took second when Tom walked the head of the list. But it was all over a minute later when afine throw from Sam Craig caught the pitcher flat-footed off second.
Sam led off for Amesville in the last of the eighth with a scratch hit that proved too slow for second baseman to field in time. Tom Pollock tried hard to get a hit, but finally fanned, and Smith was instructed to lay down a bunt and advance Sam Craig. It was at this moment that Joe saw Jack leave his place on the bench and speak to Coach Talbot. What was said between them Joe couldn’t hear, nor did he try to, but after a minute of indecision Mr. Talbot nodded his head and Jack returned, looking, as Joe put it afterwards, like the cat who ate the canary.
“You and Bat got it all settled?” asked Joe laughingly as his friend seated himself again.
Jack rewarded Joe with a somewhat sheepish glance as he nodded. After a moment he said in a low voice: “It was about Frank.”
“What about him?” asked Joe, his gaze travelling to the end of the bench.
“You’ll see,” replied Jack evasively, and that was all that he would say.
Smith’s attempt to bunt resulted disastrously, for Gorman would have none of it and the first thing Smith knew he was in the hole. When, with two strikes and two balls against him, he tried tohit it out, the ball slammed itself into Gorman’s glove and Smith was gone. Sid Morris had better success, for he got a hit down the alley between second and shortstop and Sam Craig advanced a base. Then Joe learned the meaning of Jack’s converse with the coach. Mr. Talbot recalled Jack, who had been half-heartedly awaiting his turn, and summoned Frank Foley.
“Foley! Take a whack at it. Don’t try to bend your bat. Just put one through.”
Foley, surprised, leaped from the bench. “Me, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, hurry up!”
Foley hurried. Half a dozen eager hands stretched out as many bats toward him and, seizing a couple, he hurried to the plate, swinging them eagerly. Foley’s friends in the stand applauded warmly and Joe viewed Jack quizzically as the latter sank back into his place on the bench.
“Jack,” began Joe in a whisper.
Jack turned on him rudely. “Oh, dry up!” he muttered.
Joe chuckled. “You’re a fine hater, aren’t you?” he asked.
“That’s got nothing to do with it,” declared Jack, reddening. “Frank’s worked hard all spring and—and he deserved to get in.”
“Of course, he did, and I’m glad, Jack, mighty glad. And it was decent of you, you old poser, to let him——”
“Dry up and watch the game,” begged Jack. “I hope he does something!”
And Frank, who seldom came through with a hit, today did the unexpected. There was a strike and two balls against him when he took his swing, a very healthy swing, too, and off went the ball straight down the first base line, and in raced Sam, while Amesville cheered another tally. But that was all, for Hale flied out to shortstop the next minute and the inning ended.
“All over but the cheering!” cried Jack as the bench emptied. “Hold them safe, fellows! Don’t let anything slip, Joey! I’ll be watching you!”
Frank Foley trotted into left field and Loomis to right. But those were the only substitutions made. Williams and Moran started to warm up by Coach Talbot’s orders, but no one looked to see either of them get in. The audience was already starting hesitantly toward the gates when Petersburg’s right fielder went to bat. Five minutes later many of them were scurrying back again, for, after fouling himself into the hole, the batsman waited and walked! Petersburg cheered hopefully then and when the next man up, whohappened to be that redoubtable shortstop, smashed a two-bagger over Peddie’s head, advancing the first runner to third, she cheered quite madly!
It was Amesville’s turn to show concern and Toby Williams began to put on speed where he was pitching to Jack Speyer. But Coach Talbot, contenting himself with low-toned instructions, never so much as looked at Toby. The opponent’s left fielder was replaced by a pinch-hitter and the pinch-hitter won fame and glory. He picked off Tom’s second offering and sent it well into short centre, scoring the men from third and second, putting himself on first and then going on to the next bag when the throw was made to the plate in the attempt to head off the shortstop!
Seven to six! And only one out! No wonder Captain Craig walked down to the box, amidst the joyful hoots of the visitors, and held a consultation there with Tom. No wonder that at last Mr. Talbot’s glance wandered along to where Williams and Moran were pitching. Scattered cries of “Take him out!” arose from the uneasy throng back of the first base line. But the demand was not general and, in any case, Coach Talbot had other intentions.
Captain Lyman came to bat, a little pale, verydetermined, and—struck out! It was Amesville’s turn to jeer and rejoice and she did so, relieving over-strained nerves. Tom faced the Petersburg second baseman calmly and smilingly, got his signals from Sam, wound up and pitched.
“Shtrike!” called the umpire, and the Brown-and-Blue partisans shouted stridently. Then came a ball, a low one and wide, followed by a second strike across the centre of the plate and shoulder high. Another ball then, for Tom could afford to waste one, and then——
Well, then there was acrackof wood against leather and the batsman was speeding to base! The ball went to Tom, but it was bounding crazily and he could only knock it down in his first stab for it. When he had it in hand he turned toward third to head off the runner from second and saw that that youth had changed his mind and was on his way back to the middle sack. Wheeling quickly, Tom pegged to Joe at first. But by that time the Petersburg runner had rounded first and was dashing to second. Joe caught and turned to throw to Smith when he caught sight of the further runner doubling back.Sensing a mix-up, Joe held the ball and raced for second base.The two runners reached that bag simultaneously. The expected happened. Plump intoeach other they went with a bang that doubtless made them see stars as they each rolled apart, clear of the base! Joe threw himself between them, his hand with the ball shot to the left and then to the right, and the game was over!
Two minutes later, when Joe, with most of the others who had been caught on the field, was being borne crazily about through the laughing, jubilant throng, swaying and pitching above a sea of faces, his bearers brought him for a moment abreast of Frank Foley and their glances met.
“That was great, Faulkner!” called Frank warmly.
But Joe, smiling happily, shook his head.
“Only luck,” he answered.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the illustration may not match the page number in the Illustrations.Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the illustration may not match the page number in the Illustrations.
Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.