XIXTHE TROPHY IS PRESENTED
A week later the last of the ice had disappeared, the boards about the rinks had been stored for another season and the tennis courts lay exposed where the ring of skates had sounded on the winter air. Mild weather came with a jump and almost before one knew it baseballs had made their appearance and spring was at hand.
But meanwhile the Junior Four had held meetings in the harness room—sometimes with the window wide open and the warm breath of an early spring day creeping in to them—and settled the matter of the trophy. First of all, an estimate had been received from a manufacturer in New York. The trophy was to be eight inches in height, of solid silver, to rest on a little ebony base, and to cost sixteen dollars. At first this had seemed a prohibitive price.
“We can never get that much money,” exclaimedNan in despair. “Why, I haven’t saved anything yet! I had a quarter, but I—I bought some of Kid’s tablets with it.”
“So did I,” said Small.
“Same here!” laughed Bert.
Lanny only scowled. Kid smiled sweetly.
“I guess by the time we have to pay the money,” he said nonchalantly, “we’ll have enough. Anyhow, just as a starter——”
He reached into his pocket and handed a slip of paper to Nan. She read it to herself and then aloud for the benefit of the others: “Received from Kid Fairchild ten dollars for the Junior Four Fund. Bert Bryant, Treasurer.”
“Do you really mean it, Kid?” Nan demanded delightedly. “Are you really going to give ten dollars?”
“I’ve already given it,” replied Kid carelessly. “Bert’s got it—unless he’s lost it.” Kid’s voice had an anxious tone toward the end, but Bert shook his head.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “And I’ve saved seventy-five cents myself. So all we need now is four dollars and a quarter. We can get that all right. I dare say this fellow won’t get the mug made for a month or so.”
“Of course we can!” declared Nan delightedly. “Only—only it doesn’t seem quite fair for Kid to give so much, does it?”
“He’d better pay his debts with it,” growled Lanny.
“Well, he will have his name first on the cup,” said Small. “That ought to be worth something.”
“Will this man who makes it put the names on?” Nan inquired. Bert shook his head.
“I suppose he would if we wanted him to, but I think we’d better have it done here. Besides, we don’t know yet whose name will come next to Kid’s. And we haven’t settled on—on the inscription.”
“We’ll do that now, then,” said Nan. “Who has a pencil?”
Only Small possessed such a thing and it was so dull that Nan had to gnaw the point of it before it would write. Much discussion ensued and it was some time before an inscription satisfactory to everyone had been evolved. The final draft read as follows:
JUNIOR FOUR BASEBALL TROPHYPRESENTED TO MOUNT PLEASANT ACADEMY TO BECONTESTED FOR BY HOUSE AND DAY TEAMSTHE GIFT OF—
“Then will come our names,” said Bert.
“You mean your names,” amended Nan sadly.
“Yours too,” replied Bert stoutly. “Don’t you say so, fellows?”
They did say so, emphatically, and Nan was so pleased that she blushed very prettily and declared that she wouldn’t think of such a thing!
It was the second week in April when the trophy actually arrived. It was all they had hoped for and more. I fancy the maker had improved somewhat on Small’s design, but no one hinted at such a thing and Small was decidedly proud. The trophy was urn-shaped, with two square-shouldered handles, and held on one side in relief a wreath of laurel leaves enclosing crossed bats and a ball. The other side had been left bare for the inscription. There was a little polished ebony base for it to stand on and a purple canton flannel bag to keep it in. Everyone was greatly pleased with it and it was passed from hand to hand and admired and set up on the grain-chest and re-admired until Nan grew fearful that they would wear it out!
“It’s just superb!” she declared ecstatically. “That’s what it is, it’s just superb!”
“Dandy!” agreed Lanny. “And, say, look inside, fellows; it’s gold inside!”
“Just gold-washed, I suppose,” said Bert. “Pretty, though, isn’t it?”
“I tell you what it is,” said Kid suddenly, “we’ve got to win that ourselves, fellows. We mustn’t let the day fellows get it, must we?”
“I should say not!” exclaimed Bert in horror.
“Why, the very idea!” ejaculated Nan.
“Well, what’s to keep them from getting it?” asked Small uneasily. “They beat us last year, didn’t they?”
“Did they, Nan?” asked Bert.
Nan nodded. “Terribly!” she sighed.
“Then we’ll just have to get busy and practice,” said Kid. “Gee, we can’t let those dubs get it!”
“Never!” cried Lanny. “Let’s see Ben and tell him about it.”
“Maybe we’d better show it to them now,” suggested Bert. “Maybe if they saw it they’d work harder.”
“No, let’s wait until we’ve had the inscription put on it,” said Lanny. “Then we’ll have the Doctor or Mr. Crane announce it, eh?”
“We could have the inscription put on any time now, couldn’t we?” Nan asked. “We know what it’s to be and how the names are going and all.”
“That’s right,” agreed Bert. “The sooner thebetter. We’ll take it to that jeweler chap in Whittier; he’s the best, they say; and he ought to be able to do it in a couple of days. Then we’ll give it to the Doctor and ask him to show it in class and make the announcement.”
“Then the day fellows will know about it, too,” objected Kid. “And they’ll be as anxious to get it as our fellows, and——”
“It wouldn’t be fair to show it to House alone,” said Bert firmly. “I know I suggested it, but I didn’t think. After all, we’re presenting it to the school and not to the house.”
“I guess that’s so,” Kid murmured. “I wish, though, that Ben would hurry up and start practice.”
“He’s going to start Monday,” replied Lanny. “He told me so yesterday. After that if we don’t win this it’s up to us, fellows.”
“Don’t you worry,” said Kid. “We’re going to win it. You just wait and see!”
Baseball practice didn’t start the following Monday for the reason that it began to rain on Sunday and kept it up for three days. By Tuesday afternoon disconsolate fellows were wondering how there could possibly be any more moisture left in the sky. Kid was exceeding wroth and said somany unkind things about the climate that it is really quite possible that the rain kept up just for revenge.
“If only we had a baseball cage indoors somewhere!” sighed Ben Holden, who was captain of the House Nine. It was Tuesday afternoon and Ben was in Stanley’s room.
“There wouldn’t be room for one anywhere,” said Stanley. “I should think, though, that the battery might practice in the gymnasium.”
“We tried that year before last. If you have the lights on you can’t judge the balls at all and if you don’t have them on you can’t see. Besides, George heaved a ball through a window and the Doc made us stop practicing in there. Last year the day fellows held pitching and batting practice in the old freight shed down at the station two weeks before we could get out to do anything. And I suppose they’re at it again this year.”
“I don’t believe so. I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“You wouldn’t. They don’t tell much.” He turned disgustedly to the window and looked out at the sodden, dripping world. “Even if it stops raining to-night it will be too wet to practice to-morrow.”
“We’ll put on rubbers,” responded Stanley cheerfully. “It will be a heap better than staying indoors. Let’s see that batting list again, Ben.”
“I haven’t got it here, but I remember it. Steve first, then you, then me, then Cupples, Crandall, Gardner, Perkins, Waters and Grey.”
“It sounds pretty weak in the middle, Ben.”
“I know, but what can you do? Besides, Cupples isn’t so bad with the bat sometimes. And this new fellow, Bryant, may turn out to be something and I can use him in place of Gardner. Who are those fellows coming up the road?”
“Lanny and Bert and Kid. They’ve been to the village. They look about half drowned, don’t they? I don’t think it’s raining as hard as it was, though.”
“It’s raining hard enough,” growled Ben. “Got anything to read? I’m down to hard-pan.”
“I don’t believe so. I’m reading ‘Kidnapped’ for about the sixth time. Maybe Kid’s got something, though.” He walked around to his roommate’s side of the table and examined the dozen or so volumes there. “Hm; ‘Masterman Ready,’ ‘Aid to the Composition of English,’ ‘Student’s Dictionary,’ ‘Holy Bible,’ ‘Two Years Before the Mast’—ever read that?”
“Ages ago. What’s the big book?”
“This?” Stanley pulled it out and looked at the title. “It’s somebody’s botany; Kid had an idea last fall that he wanted to study botany, and—hello!” Something had fallen from the pages of the big book and Stanley picked it up and unfolded it. “‘Hairbreadth Harry, the Gentleman Scout,’” he read. “Well, what do you think of that young rascal? Supposing someone had found that!”
“Let’s see it,” said Ben. “Hm; looks rather good. Mind if I borrow it?”
“Help yourself,” laughed Stanley, “only don’t say you got it from me if it gets pinched!”
“I won’t. I guess it will help to keep me going until supper time. Well, so long. Tell Kid I borrowed this.”
Stanley replied that he would, but he promptly forgot all about it, and when, ten minutes later, Kid came in to change his wet shoes for dry ones Stanley was deep in “Kidnapped.”
The next morning in class Doctor Merton made the announcement regarding the Junior Four Baseball Trophy. The house fellows had heard rumors about the cup, but to the rest it was news, and when the Doctor drew the silver trophy from its purple bag and set it on the corner of his desk there weremurmured exclamations of admiration followed by a hearty clapping of hands. Bert and Lanny and Small strove to look unconscious when their names were given as being donors, but Kid beamed and winked when the fellows turned to regard him. As they passed out the fellows stopped at the desk to examine the trophy. The inscription had been neatly engraved and read as follows:
JUNIOR FOUR BASEBALL TROPHYPRESENTED TO MOUNT PLEASANT ACADEMY TO BECONTESTED FOR BY HOUSE AND DAY TEAMS
THE GIFT OFJAMES FAIRCHILDALBERT PAYSON BRYANTLANSING STONE GREYTHOMAS KIRKWOOD FRYENANCY MERTON
The trophy created a sensation and was the subject of conversation for the rest of the day. Will Turner, captain and first baseman of the Day Team, declared that it was as good as won.
“Huh,” said Sam Perkins, who had overheard him, “when you fellows get even one leg of thatyou’ll know it! That little cup has our name all over it!”
Ben Holden was delighted and told the juniors that they were bricks, that he was proud of them and that the cup would look fine on the hall mantel. “But I don’t see how you fellows ever got enough money together to buy a thing like that!”
“Kid gave most——” began Bert. But Kid interrupted.
“We worked hard and saved our money,” said Kid. “And it’s nobody’s business who gave most, Bert. We all gave.”
“Well, it’s dandy, Kid. I never saw a handsomer one. Where’d you get it?”
“New York. Small designed it, though, didn’t you, Small?”
Small nodded in embarrassment. Ben told him he was a smart kid.
“And now what we’ve got to do,” continued Ben resolutely, “is to work hard and win it! Practice begins at three-thirty sharp this afternoon. Every fellow put rubbers on, for the ground’s sopping wet. And every fellow come out. No excuses accepted to-day!”
But Ben needn’t have feared for a full attendance,for the Junior Four Trophy had awakened an earnest enthusiasm in house and day pupils alike and at the appointed time every fellow in school was on the field.
There were two diamonds and so both teams were able to practice at once, and, save that the outfielders were forced to intermingle, there was plenty of room for each. With only twenty-four candidates to pick from, Mt. Pleasant Academy was handicapped when it came to contesting with other schools and so only a few outside games were scheduled each year. The big game was played just before graduation day with Maplewood School, which had only a few more pupils than Mt. Pleasant but which usually managed to win. There were, besides, games with the neighboring high school teams in June. But the early season was sacred to intrascholastic contests in which day students and house students fought for supremacy. When all was said the games between House and Day aroused more interest than the contests with outside nines. When the question of the school championship had been settled then the best players of House and Day forgot their recent rivalry and combined to form the school team.
Of course with twelve players only neither House nor Day could put two full teams on the diamond, but they managed to get along pretty well in spite of that fact. One year Day Team had played a game with Whittier High School and House had protested. The ruling was then made that neither team was to take part in any contest outside the series. As a consequence, when House and Day met for the first game each nine was decidedly green and inexperienced, but that fact only added to the interest and suspense.
To-day the practice was short, for the field was like a quagmire and the players’ rubbers, which Ben had insisted on their wearing, were continually coming off in the mud. There was some batting practice and a little throwing to bases, and both George Waters and Sam Perkins, first and second choice pitchers respectively, limbered up their arms a little, but it was no day for hard work and Ben soon called a halt. But even as it was there were several sore backs that evening, and Sewall Crandall proudly displayed a badly swollen finger, the first honorable scar of the season.
Kid had given ten dollars to the trophy fund and had sent two dollars to the Tinkham ChemicalCompany—after several reminders—in payment for the celebrated throat tablets. After which he had had a little over six dollars left. During the term of his punishment he had been unable to get rid of much of this balance, although he had sent fifty cents of it away by mail in the purchase of what an enticing advertisement had called “The Magician’s Cabinet of Magic.” The cabinet consisted of a small paper box containing a pack of cards and scant directions for performing tricks with them. Kid had promptly written to the advertiser and explained his opinion of the cabinet, but that had ended the matter. But once released from bounds Kid had succeeded in squandering three of his remaining six dollars in the village. And now, during the first week of baseball practice, Kid went bankrupt in the purchase of a wonderful fielder’s glove and a bat. The bat had the name of a celebrated member of the baseball profession printed on it in large letters, but Kid couldn’t see that it enabled him to hit the ball any more frequently than before. Kid was a substitute outfielder, and, save that he couldn’t begin to get the ball further than a baseman when throwing it in after a catch, he performed remarkably well. He reallyhad an eye like a hawk’s when it came to judging flies and he was fairly certain of holding them if they struck his glove. On the whole, Kid bade fair to become in time a very useful member of baseball society at Mt. Pleasant. Of the other juniors Bert was a substitute outfielder also, Lanny played in center and Small was a substitute infielder with few chances to play. The great trouble with Small was that when a ball came his way he was too apt to turn his back to it—if he didn’t absolutely run away from it!—and stop it by allowing it to bounce off some portion of his anatomy.
Small was also official scorer, and he was much more of a success on the bench with the score-book on his knee than in the field. However, we can’t all be Wagners or Doyles!
April ran its course, half smiles and half tears, and the merry month of May came in, and with it the first game in the House vs. Day series. By this time George Waters’ pitching arm was in fair shape, Ben Holden’s fingers had become hardened against foul-tips and Harold Cupples, on third, had learned to throw across the diamond without missing Stanley Pierce, at first, by more than six feet. The first contest was played on the first Saturday afternoon in May, and, since the batting order forthat game remained practically unchanged during the succeeding contests, I will give it here.