CHAPTER XVIIBASEBALL, TENNIS AND OYSTERS
There was yet nearly three-quarters of an hour before supper time and Dud, still elated and excited over the track victory, turned his steps to River Street and, skirting the school grounds, swung west and made for the station. The ball team, unless it missed its connection at the Junction, would be in at a quarter to six. Dud was not alone in his journey to the station, for the carriages bearing the Mount Morris athletes passed him half-way along the shaded village road and several boys, fortunate youths living nearby who had procured leave of absence over Sunday, were trailing along, suit-cases in hand. Dud witnessed the departure of the Mount Morris track team and the fellows off for home and then, seated on a baggage-truck, watched the shadows creep down the hillside across the tracks and thought of a great many things. He speculated on what had happened at Rotan to result in Grafton’s defeat, wondered whether by any stroke of fortune the Scarlet-and-Gray had redeemed herself in the later innings andthen tried to imagine himself in the box for Grafton, facing those doughty Rotan freshies and mowing them down one-two-three! He couldn’t quite visualize the scene, however, and gave up with a sigh. Then he wondered how long it would be before Mr. Sargent would let him start a game, and what would happen when he did! And at that instant there was a whistle far down the track, the few loiterers came to life along the platform and the baggage man requisitioned his truck.
Jimmie was one of the first off the train and was all for returning to school in the barge until Dud reminded him that he had walked all the way over to meet him and didn’t propose to pay any fifteen cents to ride back. Whereupon Jimmie good-naturedly set out with his chum on foot.
“Twelve to seven,” he answered in reply to Dud’s request for the final figures. “What was the matter? Why, nothing much, except that we couldn’t hit that pitcher of theirs and they slammed Myatt all over the lot in the third. Why the dickens Pete didn’t yank him out I don’t know. Maybe it’s just as well he didn’t, though. I guess they’d have battered Leddy something brutal. Those dubs sure can hit the pill, son!”
“How did you get on?” asked Dud.
“Rotten, thanks! I muffed a peach of a fly and let two runs cross, worse luck! It was in that awfulthird. The sun got square in my eyes just at the last moment. I had the old thing sighted nicely until I had to drop my hands to make the catch. Then it went plum through ’em. There were three on bases and so two of them scored. The other one could have, too, if he’d had any sense, for it took me about ten seconds to find the ball after I muffed it. But the fellow slowed up at third and by that time it was too late.”
“Did you hit any?”
“I got one, and it was a corker. I’d have had two bases on it if Blake hadn’t held me up at first, the chump! I wasn’t awfully strong with the stick, Dud, but I got a base every time I went up!”
“You did? How, for pity’s sake?”
“Well, the first time I rolled one in front of base and the catcher threw to second to get Ordway. He didn’t, though, for Hobo’s a regular flash on the bases, and we were both safe. The next time I got pinked in the arm, the next time I hit between short and third—some little sizzler, that was, old scout!—and the last time I worked Mr. Pitcher for a pass.”
“Gee, you’re a lucky chap,” said Dud enviously.
“Lucky? Nothing of the sort. Brains, son, brains! Besides, do you call it lucky to have a long, easy fly go right through your fingers? Huh! Luck didn’t do anything for little Jimmy today!Say, how’d the meet come out? Heard we’d won it, but what was the score?”
They talked track meeting until the campus was reached and then Dud returned to the subject of the ball game. “They tried Star Meyer in center for a couple of innings; Parker got his leg spiked and Star wasn’t so bad. Made a pretty catch of a long one that went nearly to the fence and managed to beat out a bunt in the ninth. I suppose the first thing I know I’ll have to down him as well as Boynton.”
Dud looked surprised. “Do you think you’ve got a show, Jimmy?” he inquired.
“Why not?” asked the other, bristling. “Boynton’s not much better than I am. He muffs ’em, too, now and then. Of course, he’s hitting better, but I’ll wager he doesn’t get to first any oftener. But if they go and lug Star into the business, why, that’s different. I can’t win out against the whole school!”
“But you say they played Star in center. And you’re after right, aren’t you?”
“I’m after anything I can get, son. A fellow who can play center can play right or left, can’t he? An outfielder’s just an outfielder, you see, and you can’t play more than three of ’em at a time—and get away with it. Just now there are about six of us, all trying for three jobs. I wish Star Meyerwould go soak his head and not butt in on baseball!”
Dud laughed. “You might suggest it to him, Jimmy. Who pitched besides Myatt? Did Brunswick get in?”
“Nobody. Ben went the distance. They couldn’t touch him much after that rotten third. Got a couple of hits in the fifth and about one each inning after that. They made their last run in the eighth with two down. A fellow cracked a two-bagger down the left foul-line and tried to steal third, and did it because Winslow let the ball drop. Then the next fellow hit an easy one to Ayer and Myatt didn’t cover base in time and the chap on third scrambled in. I guess it was just as well Pete didn’t derrick Ben, after all, because he certainly pitched a corking game after that third inning. Gee, but I’m hungry! Wish I was at training table,” he added wistfully. “They get steaks there!”
They went over to Nick Blake’s room after supper and found Hugh and Bert and Guy Murtha there, and there was much baseball talked and many “might-have-beens” discussed. Dud, as a non-participant, had little to say, and Hugh, who might have talked a good deal since he had rather distinguished himself by his work at the bat and on the bases, was almost as silent. After awhile, on the excuse of showing Dud a new book, Hugh led theother off upstairs and they settled down full-length on the window-seat, beside the open casements, and had a fine, chummy talk. Dud could talk well enough when there was but a single listener, and tonight Hugh found the younger boy far from dull. By the time Bert Winslow came in, yawning, they had discovered numerous bonds of sympathy such as mutual likes and dislikes and an intense desire to make good at baseball. Hugh, entering the game as the veriest tyro and with a deal of doubt and not much enthusiasm, was now a rabid “fan” and almost amusingly eager to make a name for himself.
Bert, I think, wanted to go to bed, but was too polite to start while there was a visitor present, and so toppled into a chair and joined the conversation. Dud realized that Bert didn’t care very much for him and so tried to get away a few minutes after the other’s advent, but Hugh wouldn’t have it.
“Oh, sit down and behave yourself, Baker! It isn’t late. I say, Bert, Baker and I have been discovering that we have lots of things in common, if you know what I mean.”
“Really?” Bert stifled a yawn. “Such as what, ’Ighness?”
“Oh, baseball, for one, you know. Tennis, too. And oysters——”
“Oysters!”
“Yes. You see I happened to think that a dozen nice cold raw oysters would taste corking. They would, wouldn’t they?”
“Out of season, you chump.”
“Never! That’s only prejudice, old chap. Well, anyway, oysters was one thing—wereone thing, I should say. English is beastly confusing at times, eh? And then we found that Baker knew my part of the country, down Maryland way, you know. He comes from Delaware.”
“So would I,” laughed Bert.
“Delaware,” replied Dud, smiling, “is small but select. Where’s your home, Winslow?”
“Pennsylvania; Shrevesport. Know it?”
Dud shook his head. “Some of my folks lived in Pennsylvania once, a good many years ago.”
“It’s a good state. They were foolish to leave it,” yawned Bert. “Hope they didn’t have to?”
“Why, in a way I believe they did. You see one of them was an officer in the American Army, and when Howe occupied Philadelphia they thought it might not be healthy.”
“Oh,” said Bert. Hugh smiled.
“Still,” continued Bert, “they needn’t have gone to Delaware, eh?”
“I don’t think they did just then. A couple of them were with Washington at Valley Forge. I think the women went to New Jersey until Philadelphiawas evacuated again. I don’t know just what happened then. We’ve been living in Delaware only since my grandfather’s time. He moved there from Philadelphia to improve his state.”
“Improve his state? You mean he was—was hard up?” asked Bert suspiciously.
“I can’t say. I’ve been told it was to improve his state. That’s all I know.”
Hugh laughed. “You began it, Bert! Honors are even. As judge of the debate, I declare it a draw.”
Bert smiled slowly. Then: “All right, Baker,” he said amiably, “you win! Fact is, I don’t know anything about Delaware or a thing against it. Sorry if I trod on your toes.”
“You didn’t, Winslow; I moved them out of the way,” laughed Dud.
After the latter had taken his departure and the two roommates were preparing for bed, Hugh heard a grunt from the opposite chamber. “What’s troubling you?” he called.
“Nothing,” was the answer. “I was just thinking that that kid isn’t such a fool, after all, eh?”
“Well,” replied Hugh, winking at himself in the glass, “I rather fancy he had you, old top.”
Bert’s only response was another grunt, but it sounded assenting.