CHAPTER XVII
Instinctively Bart's intimates gathered about him, while Sandow and the other boys, who had no liking for the rich bully, rallied around Hal.
Noting that the captain had the support of an overwhelming majority of the students, Taffy seized Bart's arm.
"Don't make a fool of yourself," he counseled. "Hal's entirely within his right as captain. If you don't go peacefully, he won't let you play this year. Don't let your personal enmity lay you open to the charge of throwing Baxter."
But, despite this sound advice, the rich bully refused to obey, glowering at the approaching captain with sullen defiance.
Hal, however, was still master of himself, and when he was within a yard of Bart, he stopped, and looked him straight in the eye.
"I'll give you one more chance," he said with cold deliberation. "Leave the gymnasium immediately and report at three, or you'll not play on my team."
Realizing that the captain was in deadly earnest, Taffy, Lefty and several of the Firsts seized the bully and forced him up the stairs.
Fiercely Bart struggled to get free, but his friends were determined to save him from himself, and continued to carry him along.
Just as he reached the top step, however, the bully made a desperate stand.
"You may think you can dictate to me," he shouted. "But I'll show you, Hal Church, you can't. I won't report at the grounds."
"Suit yourself," returned Hal quietly, then, turning to the other boys, he exclaimed: "Whoever else wishes to try for the team, give me his name."
When all who desired had signified their intentions, Hal found that thirty candidates had enrolled, and, bidding them be at the grounds at three that afternoon, he adjourned the meeting.
The necessity of going to classes immediately, prevented any discussion of Bart's insubordination, but at noon the leaders of the school gathered in consultation.
Though they all were agreed that Hal had adopted the only course possible in order to maintain his authority, the fact remained that Bart was a pitcher of great ability, and they had counted upon his work to help defeat the nine from Landon.
Every boy who had ever pitched, or whom they thought could be made into a pitcher, was discussed, but the only possibilities who had anything of School Nine calibre were Holcomb and Sandow. Whether or not these two boys could be developed, was a question, and it was a glum set of athletes who went to their homes for dinner.
For some reason, Bronson had not attended the meeting, but he had heard about Bart's objection to Fred and final defiance of his captain.
"Is Montgomery such a phenomenal pitcher?" he asked, as he walked home with Fred.
"He's the best we've had at Baxter in years. Why, last year, even when he was a Third, he held Landon to six hits in the second game. And he can bat, too," declared his rival generously. "Indeed, it was his work more than anything else that made the usual third game unnecessary."
"Aren't there any other fellows who can pitch?" inquired Bronson, after a silence of several minutes. "You surely did not rely solely on a Third Former to win from Landon."
"No. Jack Hastings pitched the first game, but he has graduated. I guess the only thing for me to do is to tell Hal I have decided not to play. Then Bart will come back and we'll win the championship again this year."
"Are you crazy?" demanded his companion. "Even if you did that, Hal could not let Montgomery play after his open defiance."
"But it's for the good of Baxter," insisted Fred.
His companion made no comment upon this statement, and again they lapsed into silence.
"Have the entries for candidates closed?" Bronson suddenly asked.
"Why, no. A fellow can come out any time. But what makes you ask?" inquired Fred eagerly.
"Just wanted to know," returned Bronson, smiling tantalizingly. "Here we are at the Head's. See you this afternoon." And he turned in at the gate.
Wondering what his friend meant by his mysteriousness, Fred continued to his home, where he bolted his dinner, and then returned to school, seeking Hal, whom he drew to one side.
"Bronson given in his name for the nine yet?" he inquired excitedly.
"No; why?"
Briefly Fred related the conversation that had passed between Clothespin and him.
"What do you suppose he's driving at?" asked Hal, when the story was finished.
"More than I know. Let's see if we can find him."
But though they searched diligently, Bronson was nowhere to be found, and it was not until the candidates had assembled at the cage that the puzzle was solved.
Just as Hal was ready to assign the players to their workouts, Bronson, clad in a natty blue uniform, approached the captain.
Instantly all the other boys gathered around.
"With your permission, Mr. Church, I should like to try for pitcher," said Bronson, flushing under the gaze of the other candidates.
A gasp of amazement ran through the crowd at these words, and many were the whispered comments.
"Ever played?" asked Hal, trying to conceal his surprise.
"Two years."
"Where?"
"I pitched at Hodgson's Military School."
"Areyouthe Bronson who never lost a game for his team?" exclaimed the captain, hope mingled with his astonishment.
"Yes; but it was the support I received that enabled me to establish such a record," rejoined the boy.
"Hooray! We don't need Bart!" yelled Buttons joyously, while the other boys slapped one another on the back, and jumped and capered in their delight at the discovery of so classy a pitcher in the form of the tall, awkward Second.
Hal was as pleased as the rest, but believing it not in keeping with his dignity as captain to show his feelings, he took out the book in which he had listed the names of the candidates and added Bronson's.
"Go into the box and pitch a few balls to Gregory, who'll do the major part of our catching," commanded Hal, as he finished writing. "The rest of you practice fielding. Lefty, you knock them grounders."
But though the boys all obediently took positions, they simply stood in their places watching the new pitcher.
Conscious of the scrutiny, Bronson showed no signs of being rattled, and with cool deliberation threw a half dozen balls which showed that he had curves and speed.
"Great stuff!" whispered Sandow, who was standing with Hal behind the pitching find. "Wonder if he's hard to hit?"
"We'll soon know," returned the captain. "Wait a minute, Bronson; I want you to pitch a few with Sandow at the plate."
When the others heard the words, they grinned expectantly, for the leader of the Firsts was the hardest hitter in the school.
"Will you call strikes and balls?" asked Bronson, turning to Hal.
"Why, yes; if you like."
"All right; I wish you would." And while Sandow settled himself at the plate, Bronson turned his back and worked his fingers round the ball.
Believing in his heart that Hal would send for him, Bart had hung about the building. But as he heard the shouts, his curiosity got the better of his sulking, and he hastened to learn their cause, arriving just as Sandow made ready to bat.
With none of the spectacular "wind-ups," of which Bart was so fond, Bronson secured a sound footing, drew back his arm, took a quick swing, and released the ball.
To Hal, Gregory and Sandow, it seemed to be one of those straight, swift balls, and a grin suffused the batter's face as he prepared to meet it.
But though he swung viciously, just as the ball was in front of the plate, it jumped, and the bat missed it.
"Good boy! Great work!" shouted several of the onlookers, while Hal called "Strike one!" and Sandow rapped the plate disgustedly with the bat, bracing himself for the next ball.
Again Bronson served him the same sort, and again Sandow missed.
"Strike him out! Strike him out!" shouted the crowd.
"Shall I?" asked the boy, turning to Hal.
"If you can."
Once more Bronson worked his fingers and released the ball. But this time it took a sudden drop, and Sandow's bat went over it.
"Three strikes!" cried Hal.
"Fluke! Fluke! Sandow hasn't got his eye back! Bet he can't do it again," shouted Taffy.
But Bronson proved it was no fluke, and that he had remarkable control, by not only striking out Sandow again, but two of the next best batsmen, including Hal himself.
Satisfied that the Baxter High School had, indeed, received a valuable acquisition, Hal told Bronson to take good care of his arm, and after a short workout with the rest of the candidates, announced the practice over.
To Bart, the ability of Bronson was a bitter blow, but, worst of all, as the season wore on, he found that the boys did not even mention his desertion of the nine.
At last, fearing he would lose his followers in school entirely, he went to Hal and pleaded to be allowed to play. But the captain was obdurate. Finally, however, as a matter of precaution in case anything happened to Bronson, he agreed to let Bart practice in secret.
Fred, having the natural qualifications of a second baseman, had no difficulty in beating out the other candidates for the position, and he and Bronson worked out a secret code of signals to assist the pitcher when men were on bases.