CHAPTER XXIIDUD COMES BACK
Dud started out with one idea, which was to redeem himself. He was pretty sure that Mr. Sargent would not expect him to go more than five innings, six at the very most, and he determined to use every bit of strength and science he possessed during those six frames, to pitch himself out if necessary, but at all hazards to show form. He was nervous at first and showed wildness with his practice balls, and after that made a bad start by passing the first man up for Corliss. But subsequently he settled down nicely, and although he had no strike-outs to his credit in that first inning, he allowed no hits, and the runner on first never left that bag.
Grafton got two hits in the second, one rather scratchy, but failed to score. Corliss once more got a man to first on a hit that took a bad bound in front of Nick Blake and once more watched him die there. In the third, after Grafton had retired in one, two three order, Dud began to find his control, and he and Ed Brooks disposed of the Corliss pitcher and thefirst two batsmen on the Blue’s list with no trouble, Walters fanning, the next man popping a fly to Neil Ayer and the next being thrown out at first by Bert Winslow.
Grafton got her first run in the fourth inning. Hugh Ordway was passed, Murtha sacrificed him to second and, after Neil Ayer had struck out, Boynton slipped a fast grounder down the alley between shortstop and second, and Hugh romped home and beat the throw by a yard. Star Meyer flied out to center field.
Dud added speed to science in the last of the fourth and two of the Blue’s best batsmen fanned wildly, and the little group of Graftonians in the corner of the stand cheered themselves patriotically and appropriately scarlet of face. The succeeding batter drove a liner into Captain Murtha’s glove and the fifth inning began.
Ed Brooks allowed Walters to put him in a hole with the first two deliveries, and then, after disdaining a couple of wide ones, swung despairingly at a third and somehow managed to get it on the tip end of his bat and land it safely behind shortstop. Then began a fusillade of the Corliss pitcher that ultimately spelled retirement for that youth. Dud, who had rolled a weak one down the first-base path and been an easy out the first time at bat, now tried twice to bunt and failed. After that there was nothing to dobut take a good healthy swing and try to get the ball out of the infield. With the score two-and-two, Dud cut loose and poked a hit past third-baseman that put Brooks on the third sack and himself on first. Blake bunted and the pitcher fielded, the latter making the mistake of holding the ball too long to protect the plate. When he finally tossed to first he was too late and the bases were full.
At this interesting juncture Bert Winslow ought to have stepped into the limelight with a smashing home-run or a three-bagger at least, but the best Bert could do was to bounce one away to shortstop and Brooks was an easy out at the plate. But the bases were still filled, with only one man down, and there were cries of “Lift it, Hobo!” “Knock it in the nose, Hobo!” as Hugh went to the plate. Walters, showing the strain now, pitched two wild heaves which his catcher barely stopped and then slipped one across in the groove. Hugh swung at it but was too late. A third ball followed and Grafton yelled exultantly. But again Walters made good, Hugh not offering. Everything depended on the next delivery, and as the ball left the pitcher’s hand the three runners on the paths started away. They need not have hurried, though, for the ball went low and wide and Hugh walked, Dud crossing the platter with the second tally for the Scarlet-and-Gray.
By this time Corliss had two pitchers warming upand it was easy to see that Walters’ minutes were numbered. Captain Murtha brought affairs to the crisis by landing on the pitcher’s second delivery and lifting it high and far to right field. It was well over the fielder’s head, and that youth failed to get under it. Two more runs tallied and Guy took second. After that Walters passed Ayer and was promptly derricked. The new twirler, Hoyt, had difficulty in getting under way, and before he succeeded two more hits and as many runs had been scored. Of the hits Boynton contributed one and Brooks one. Star Meyer made the second out and Dud the third, Dud being robbed of a hit by a pretty running catch of a short fly to center.
The score was 6 to 0 when the last half of the fifth started and there seemed to be no doubt as to who owned the game. Dud was beginning to feel tired, but believed himself fit for another inning, or two if necessary. But things broke bad at the start. The first of the enemy to face him showed no eagerness to hit and before he knew it Dud was two balls to the bad. Then, although he managed to get a strike across, he followed with a third ball, and the final result was that the Corliss youth smashed a hot liner straight over third base and took two bases on the hit. The succeeding batsman fouled out quickly to Winslow. Then Brooks tried to catch the runner off second and the ball got away from Murtha,who took the throw, and the runner reached third.
Dud felt himself slipping then and shot an inquiring look toward the bench. But Mr. Sargent was evidently still unworried, for Leddy and Weston were both there and no one was warming up. Dud gritted his teeth and went on. The batsman had a strike and two balls on him when Dud, trying to break a high one over the inner corner, lost control of the ball and it went straight for the batter’s head. But Dud’s shout of “Look out!” was not necessary. The man at the plate dropped just in time and the ball sailed past Brooks and brought up at the net, the runner on third sprinting home.
Murtha and the others did their best to steady Dud again, and Ed Brooks, walking down to place the ball in Dud’s hand, said: “That was my fault, Dud. I ought to have got it. Sorry, old man. Don’t mind it, though. Let’s have this fellow, eh?”
Dud nodded. It was nice of Brooks to call it his fault, but of course it hadn’t been anything of the sort. Dud glanced again toward the bench as he went back to his place on the mound. He wished that Mr. Sargent would get his relief ready. He wondered why he didn’t. He was giving way to a sort of fright now, although he didn’t show it unless by the longer time he took to grip the ball and study Brooks’ signal. About him the infield players were speaking words of encouragement. The batsmanhad him in the hole. He must make him hit. But something told him that he was worked out, that there was no use trying, that today was to be just a repetition of that other day when he had gone to pieces there on Lothrop Field with the whole school looking on!
Brooks had signaled for a straight ball and Dud tried to pitch it. Instead of being straight, though, it was a hook, but it crossed the corner of the plate and the umpire was charitable to Dud. Brooks, looking anxious, threw it back slowly and again spread his hands. The little group of Grafton rooters cheered. Dud, however, took no joy of the doubtful decision. Luck had aided him that time, but this time, he told himself, he would surely fail. And fail he did. The ball passed well inside the plate and the batsman, staggering away from it, dropped his bat and trotted down the path. Corliss was cheering madly now, sensing the fact that the Grafton pitcher was at last weakening. Guy Murtha hurried to the box and told Dud to take his time, to let them hit. Dud muttered agreement, conscious chiefly of disappointment. He had expected Guy to take the ball away from him! What, he wondered almost angrily, was the matter with them? Couldn’t they see that he was through? Why did they want to keep him there when he was only making things worse every minute?
None out now and a runner on first. The next batsman didn’t wait for a pass but lighted on Dud’s first offering and sent it rolling toward third. Dud and Brooks and Winslow all started for it, but it was Bert who scooped it up and pegged it to Ayer, and Bert wasn’t set for the throw and the ball went a yard away from the first-baseman. The first runner dashed to third and the next slid into second base. Dud went despairingly back to the mound to face the next ambitious blue-legged youth. A hit meant two more runs for Corliss, he told himself. Surely then they’d let him go out! But the hit didn’t come just then. Instead, it was a short fly that left the bat and Nick Blake ran back and got it safely and slammed it home. But the man on third didn’t try to score. Then the hit did come, after Dud by some miracle had induced the batsman to swing at two wide balls, and it sped into short center field and two joyful Corliss runners tallied.
Dud looked inquiringly at Murtha and got only a “Never mind that, Baker! Go to it!” Then his eyes sought the bench, and there sat Leddy, hands in pockets, and Gus Weston chatting unconcernedly with Barnes over the score-book, and Mr. Sargent, leaning forward with hands clasped loosely between his knees and his straw hat pulled over his eyes! Dud couldn’t understand it at all. Did they want to get beaten? Couldn’t they see that he was throwingthe game away, that he wasn’t any good after all, that he never had been?
“Settle down, Dud!” called Nick Blake. “At a boy! Let’s have ’em, old top!”
“One gone!” chanted Captain Murtha. “Let’s have the double, fellows!”
Dud turned desperately to his task again. He tried to remember what the fellow facing him now had done before. Struck out, hadn’t he? Or was he the chap who had smashed out that double? Well, it was up to Brooks, and Brooks wanted a drop. Dud tried to catch the runner at first and failed twice and then pitched to the plate. The drop was good and the batsman swung at it.
“That’s the stuff!” called Brooks cheerfully. “He can’t hit ’em, Dud! Right across now. Show him a good one.”
A wide and low one followed and then another. Two-and-one now, and Brooks showing three fingers for another drop. Dud tried it and failed and the umpire announced “Ball three!” Corliss shouted and stamped and clapped. Dud had none to waste and he took all the time he wanted for the next. But it slanted away erratically and the batsman tossed his bat behind him and sprang gleefully toward first, while the runner at that station went on to second. Murtha came to the box.
“Look here, Baker, what’s the matter with you?Are you trying to present them with the game? For the love of Mike, put some of them over! Let them hit ’em, I tell you. We’ll take care of them!”
“Maybe,” muttered Dud, “you’d better let me out, Murtha.”
“Let you out? Is that what you’re up to? Well, listen, Baker; you’re going to stay in here until you get the third man if it takes all the afternoon! So you might as well get busy. You can throw the game away if you want to, but you’re going to stay right here, son! Understand that?”
Dud viewed him, astonished. Then he nodded. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s the talk,” responded the captain kindly. “Get a grip on yourself, Baker. You’re just as good as you were an hour ago, man! All you’ve got to do is to think so! Now settle down and make ’em eat out of your hand!”
Dud gave up trying to understand things after that. They meant to keep him at it until he had retired the side. That was the principal thing to think of. He wasn’t to look for relief but must earn his own salvation. Well, in that case he knew where he stood, and that was something of a comfort. At least, he wouldn’t have to look over toward the bench every few minutes. Either they thought he could hold what he had or they were just keeping him in to punish him. Either way, itdidn’t much matter, he decided. All he had to do now was to retire two more batsmen in some way or other. That realization seemed to simplify matters remarkably!
Dud turned and studied the bases. A runner on second and a runner on first. And one out. Why, that wasn’t so bad! A double play would end the trouble, or a hit anywhere in the infield would probably account for one. He mustn’t let the batsman bunt toward third, though, for that would draw Winslow off his bag. Better give him low ones and try the inner corner. If only he could get his slow ball working again he might squeeze out of the hole he was in.
“Two fingers,” said Dud to himself. “But that won’t do, Ed. He wants to dump one down toward third.” Dud shook his head and Brooks laid three fingers across his mitt. Dud nodded. Yes, a drop was the best. If he could make it go, he added doubtfully to himself. But he did make it go. And the batsman professed intense astonishment when a strike was called. Brooks signaled for the same thing again, and again Dud essayed it, and again he earned the decision, for this time the batter swung viciously at it without, however, any result. Dud breathed easier. With two strikes across he could waste a couple and perhaps fool the batsman with a hook. Brooks showed two fingers and Dud serveda curve waist-high but wide of the plate. Then another, a little closer, but still not tempting. Dud refused two signals and at last got Brooks to show four fingers. Then Dud nodded, glanced behind him to where Murtha and Blake were running the blue-legged youth back to base whenever he tried to steal a start, and wound up. Forward shot his arm and away sped the ball, straight for the plate and fairly high, and around swung the bat and swept through empty air! For the ball had been a slow one and the batter had hit inches ahead of it!
Dud stopped slipping then, brought up with a round turn, in fact! If he could still make that slow ball of his go right he could fool any of them! He wondered what had got into him! Why, he was just as good as ever! What a silly fool he had been to think anything else! They were shouting shrilly and triumphantly over in the corner of the stand and Brooks was grinning all over his round, freckled face. Dud spread his hand in the dust and fondled the ball and waited calmly for the next batsman. He was no longer afraid, no longer doubtful. He had, he told himself exultantly, come back!
Brooks asked for a curve and Dud refused it. A fast, straight ball instead was what the batter saw speed past him. Perhaps, though, he didn’t really see it, for it fairly sizzled with the “steam” that Dud put on it. After that a low curve broke badly andthen a second one barely trimmed the outer corner of the rubber, but the batsman swung at the latter and missed it. A foul back of the plate just escaped Brooks and spoiled what Dud had intended for a third strike. Two-and-two now, and the Corliss coachers shouting imploringly for a hit and the runners dancing on their toes, eager to be off. Dud might still waste one if he liked, but his fingers, when the ball came back to him, curved themselves around the ball cunningly in response to the catcher’s signal and Dud stepped forward and pitched, and every ounce of speed he had went into that delivery. Straight as an arrow it flashed to the plate, cut it squarely in halves and thumped into Ed Brooks’ mitt. The batter never even offered at it and his bat was still at his shoulder when the umpire waved him aside!
Dud, walking across to the bench, heard the cheers of the tiny band of Grafton rooters and smiled a little. Those cheers sounded awfully good to him just then! He had come through and the only desire in his heart now was to be allowed to finish!
And finish he did, and went straight through to the end of the ninth without further punishment. In those four succeeding innings the enemy made just three hits, one of them a two-bagger that netted nothing beyond a journey to second base. Six strike-outswere added to his credit and he made two assists. And in the meanwhile Grafton sweetened her total with three more runs, so that when Dud ended the game by causing a Corliss pinch hitter to fly out to Boynton in left the score stood 9 to 3.