CHAPTER XXVIIITHE END OF THE GAME
In a brief time the confusion spread over the entire assembly. Ned ran to his friend and the players of both teams swarmed upon the field. Even the spectators shared in the prevailing excitement and were standing looking interestedly at the group which by this time had surrounded Dan.
Among the first to reach his side was Gus Kiggins. “Honestly, Dan, I didn’t mean to do it,” he said excitedly. “I thought you saw me! I’m sorry! I’m——”
“Get away, will you!” broke in Ned savagely. Thrusting aside the player who had been the cause of the trouble, Ned examined the arm which already was showing the effect of the blow. “Does it hurt much, Dan?” he inquired anxiously.
The young pitcher smiled faintly and did not reply, though the paleness of his face fully answered his friend’s query.
“Let me rub it,” suggested Hodge.
“Get some water—hot water,” added Smith, every boy being anxious to do something for the relief of Dan.
“Can you go on with the game?” asked Ned.
“I’ll try,” answered Dan by an effort. “Let me see if I can throw.” Taking the ball from the umpire’s hand Dan swung his arm, but quickly dropped the ball. “No use,” he said slowly. “My arm won’t work.”
The members of the nine glanced helplessly at one another and then glared at Gus, the source of all the trouble.
“I told you I didn’t mean to do it,” Gus growled. “I thought he saw me. We were all passing the ball——”
“Gus, do you think a dose of ipecac would help him?” said Ned in a low voice to his first-baseman. There was almost a glitter in the eyes of the young captain, he was so angry. Nor did his feeling find relief when Gus Kiggins growled, “What’s the matter with you?” But he did not reply to the question.
The delay continued five minutes and then the game was resumed with Gus taking Dan’s place in the pitcher’s box, Walter going to short-stop, and Sam Ventnor playing first base. Dan, who was taken to the dressing-room to receive the attention of a physician, who was found among the spectators, in a brief time returned to the field and seated himself on the players’ bench, there to watch the game in which he was to have no further part. The glances of sympathy which were given him as he had walked in front of the grand stand on his way to the bench had not soothed his feelings and to thethree substitute players who were sitting beside him he barely spoke in reply to their anxious questions.
“Does your arm hurt?” asked Snell, the first substitute.
“That’s a fine question,” answered Dan somewhat tartly. “What did you think? Would it make my pitching arm feel good to hit it with a ball?”
“Of course. I understand,” said Snell lamely. “All I meant was to find out if you thought you’d get in the game again.”
“Not this game. What’s the score? How is it going?”
“The Military Academy fellows made a run last inning.”
“This is the fifth inning.”
“No. It’s the sixth.”
“How is Gus doing?”
“Pretty well. They’re hitting him some, though. There! Look at that, will you!” Snell added abruptly. “A three-bagger!”
At the moment a shout that came almost with the sharpness of the report of a gun arose from the seats occupied by the friends of the academy nine. Two men were on bases when their heaviest hitter came to bat and when his long hit was made the two players before him raced home with their tallies.
“Dan, you’ll have to go back to the pitcher’sbox!” exclaimed Snell as the cheering of the opposing section was renewed when the runner on third came in with the third run of the inning, after the batter had sent a long fly to left field which Smith captured.
“I wish I could,” said Dan quietly.
“You must. That makes the score four to two. We can’t stand that. They’re hammering Gus! They’ll drive him out of the box.”
“That doesn’t look as if they would,” suggested Dan as the next player struck out.
“Three in one inning,” muttered Snell hopelessly.
“The game is young.”
“If it is that bad when it’s young, what will it be when it is older?”
“Better for us, I hope.”
The school players came toward the bench, every one looking anxiously at Dan and eagerly inquiring concerning his hurt. The glances of anger at Gus when it became manifest that Dan was out of the present game were frequent and unmistakable. The substitute pitcher, however, apparently was giving slight heed to the looks of his comrades. His face was streaming with perspiration, while his jaws were working as if every second of time had its special value.
Between Gus and the other members of the nine sat Walter, his face still betraying the sickness he had suffered and his bearing showing that he was far from feeling at ease at the moment. He glancedrepeatedly at Dan, who was the center of a group, but he did not speak.
“Brace up, fellows!” said Ned anxiously as he faced his fellow players. “Now is the time to show the stuff you’re made of! We mustn’t let a little thing like a lead of three runs scare us. Do your best!”
The encouraging words of the young captain did not avail, however. The lanky Ingersoll seemed to have acquired an additional power in his wirelike arms and his body went through contortions that made his earlier efforts appear like child’s play. Walter struck out. Sam Ventnor sent a little fly to the first-baseman. Gus Kiggins indeed made a hit, but it counted for nothing, as the batter that followed him was easily thrown out at first.
The Military Academy nine, however, did no better when their turn to bat came and neither of the following innings was productive of a run for either side.
“We’ve just got to do something now,” said Ned desperately as he turned to his companions a moment before he advanced to the plate to begin the Tait School’s half of the eighth inning.
“Set us a good example, Neddie boy,” said Hodge encouragingly.
Ned’s face was grim with determination as he faced the opposing pitcher. He was deliberate and cool and waited until two strikes and two balls had been called before he attempted to strike. Thenhitting savagely, he sent the ball on a low line far into center field.
It was now the turn of the Tait School to express its feelings in a long shout. The wild cries redoubled as Ned gained third and then with a burst of speed turned and raced for the home-plate. The ball was fielded well and now was in the hands of the second-baseman, but the nerve-racking strain was too great. In his attempt to throw quickly the ball went far over the head of the catcher and Ned was safe.
“Five to three! Five to three! Five to three!” came as a monotonous chant from the seats of the academy contingent. The cry could be heard above the wild shouts of the Tait School supporters, who still were shouting wildly over the hit and the run of their captain.
“Remember the example Ned set,” said Smith as Hodge stepped forward with his bat. “Keep it up, you midget!”
The spectators were silent once more as all excitedly watched the batter. The powerful Hodge made a lunge at the first ball pitched and sent it just over the head of the third-baseman.
“A hit!” “You’ve got them on the run now!” “Keep it up! Keep it up!” were the rejoicing calls that greeted Gus as his turn to bat came.
This time the young giant for some reason was more responsive to his orders and instead of exerting all his strength he did his utmost to make asacrifice hit, but the ball rolled to second base, was hastily seized by the baseman, who touched his base, and then hurled the ball to first just in time to catch Gus.
“Double play!” “Two down!” “This fellow is easy!” roared some of the enthusiasts in the academy section. “Strike him out!” “Don’t let him hit it!” “Careful!” “Careful!” were among the encouraging words shouted to the tall pitcher.
Apparently Ingersoll responded to the appeal, for he struck out the next player and the side was out.
As all were aware that the incoming inning was the last for each nine, the excitement became more intense. When the Military Academy nine made a run the delight of their supporters became still greater, and though the confidence of the academy contingent was strong, nevertheless they were all anxious when the Tait School hitters came to bat for what was likely to be the last time in the game.
Every player was cautious now and if in his anxiety he did not become overanxious the score was not likely to be changed. Ned was slapping his players on the back and urging everyone to do his utmost. The last opportunity to score ought not to be lost.
“Up in the air!” shouted Smith, who was on the coaching line near first base when Walter, the first player to face Ingersoll, was given his base on balls. In his delight Smith leaned over and pulled grass with each hand as he continued his wild shouts.
The academy, however, responded vociferously when the next man struck out, and their shouts were prolonged and wilder when the following batter sent up a fly which was caught by the nimble player in right field.
“All over but the shouting!” called one hilarious supporter of the academy.
“Is it?” called Smith derisively, as the runner he was coaching started swiftly for second base, and out of the cloud of dust that was stirred up as he threw himself forward the decision “safe” was heard.
To the delight of the nine Walter boldly started, at the first ball pitched, for third base, and when it was seen that his steal had been successful the shouts and calls redoubled. A hit now would mean another run, and if the batter gained his base another run which would tie the score was not impossible. The wild calls died away a brief moment and then burst forth in redoubled power when the batter drove a sharp grounder between first and second and Walter made “home” with another run. The brief rejoicing hushed when Ned lifted a high fly into left field. The fielder first ran back, then turned and raced forward, and then stopped, awaiting the coming of the ball. A deathlike silence fell over the field and benches alike. Every face was turned toward the young fielder. Gus ran forward from the bench and crouched low as he watched the ball. Apparently it seemed to be falling slowly.The fielder stood motionless. Suddenly he put up his hands and caught it. The nine of the Military Academy had won the first game of the interschool series by a score of five to four.
A noisy cheer greeted the catch and then in comparative silence the assembled spectators began to move from the seats toward the waiting automobiles and carriages. The crowd halted a moment to listen to the cheers which the victorious nine gave as they assembled and then to the cheers of the Tait School nine.
The latter stood close together, every player resting his hands on the shoulders of a teammate. The cheer rose with a great volume of sound, but in it there was to be detected something of the disappointment everyone felt. The game had been well played, but defeat was still defeat.
“Too bad, Ned,” said Dan as his friend walked beside him. “We’ll try to do better next time. It’s early in the season yet, you know.”
“How is your arm?” asked Ned abruptly.
“Sore.”
“That’s the way we all feel,” snapped Ned. “If you had kept on we’d have won the game.”
“That’s something no man knows.”
“It’s what everybody here knows!”
“Never mind. Perhaps being beaten in the first game will make us all the better for the series. Isn’t the Military Academy nine about the strongest in the league?”
“It isn’t so strong as ours when you pitch. What do you think, Dan; did Gus do that on purpose?”
“He says he didn’t.”
“No one believes him.”
Dan did not reply and at that moment Carlton Hall came running to the side of the young pitcher. “O Dan!” he exclaimed. “Wasn’t it too bad? Didn’t you see Gus Kiggins when he threw that ball?”
“It wouldn’t have hit me if I had.”
“Some of the fellows say he did it on purpose just the same as he tried to get you out of the game by making you sick beforehand.”
“Who says so?” demanded Dan sharply. “You mustn’t listen——”
Dan stopped abruptly as Walter and Gus at that moment joined the three boys. Had Carlton’s words been heard? Dan was unable to determine from the expression on the face of the player who had taken his place in the pitcher’s box. Even the thought, however, was forgotten in the words which Gus spoke.