CHAPTER XXJIMMY ENCOURAGES
That game with Lawrence Textile went to thirteen innings and ended, still a tie, 1 to 1, to allow the visitors to get their train. Nate Leddy, going to the rescue with three on, two out and the pitcher’s score one-and-three, pulled out of the hole very neatly. Instead of attempting the difficult feat of striking the batsman out, Nate dropped one over knee-high and the ball went straight up from the swinging bat and straight down again into Gordon’s mitten, and Lawrence saw her golden opportunity vanish. After that for three innings, although the suspense kept up every moment, neither side got anywhere near a score. Leddy and Fairway, the latter showing fatigue and substituting control for speed, were masters every minute. Fairway’s work to the very end was such that the spectators applauded him every time he left the mound or went to bat. After that hair-raising, nerve-racking tenth inning, Grafton could feel only satisfaction at the outcome. Even Captain Murtha had no regrets, and ifCoach Sargent was disappointed he made no sign.
Perhaps, aside from the Lawrence players, the only disconsolate one was Dud. He had hurried from his shower straight to his room, his main desire being to get out of the way before the game ended and the fellows came piling into the Field House, and so he didn’t learn the outcome of the contest until Jimmy arrived, half an hour later. By that time Dud’s common sense had come to the rescue and he was able to review his performance in the pitcher’s box without being prompted to suicide. After all, he had fared no worse than Gus Weston, he told himself comfortingly, and even Ben Myatt had begun distributing passes before he had been taken out; although, of course, Ben had far more excuse for giving out, since he had pitched six innings.
Dud was still wondering what had happened to him. He had been all right until Boynton had made that memorable muff. After that he hadn’t been able to get the ball where he wanted it. It wasn’t that his arm had tired. It had been just as good as when he had started. And, as Dud recalled it now, he hadn’t been nervous; not, anyway, until he had issued that first pass in the tenth. It just seemed, looking back on the fiasco, that the ball had suddenly simply refused to go where it was sent! He wondered whether Mr. Sargent would ever give himanother chance, whether the fellows were secretly laughing at him. Well, he had surely afforded Bert Winslow a fine opportunity to say “I told you so!” Bert had all along been politely contemptuous of Dud’s ambition to make the first team, although of late he had been very decent to him indeed. He rather hoped he wouldn’t run across Bert for a day or two!
Dud didn’t make the mistake of feeling himself disgraced, at least not after the first few miserable minutes, but he did feel that he had failed pretty badly as a pitcher, and that before the whole school, and he dreaded having to face the fellows again. He was pondering the idea of remaining away from dining-hall that evening when Jimmy came tramping along the corridor and entered.
“Hello, you! Where’d you get to?” Jimmy skimmed his cap to the bed and threw himself tiredly into a chair. “Did you see the game out?”
Dud shook his head. “What—what was the score?” he asked dejectedly.
“Just the same as when you ducked; one each.” Jimmy gave a brief but graphic history of the final three innings. “Why didn’t you come back and see the rest of it?” he concluded.
“I guess I would have if I’d known they weren’t beating us. I’m glad they didn’t. Did—did anyone say anything?”
“Say anything? What about?”
“About me, I mean.”
“Oh, that’s what’s worrying you? I thought you looked a little bit down-hearted. Don’t you let that bother you, son. They all have to go through with that before they arrive. You did pretty well, on the whole. Three strike-outs, wasn’t it? And then you pulled us out of that hole in the seventh! Don’t be a clam, Dud. No one expects a green pitcher to go into a game like that and twirl like a veteran. Why, the row those fellows kicked up even mademenervous, away out in the field!”
“It wasn’t that,” said Dud sadly. “I don’t know what it was. Of course, I was rattled just at first, but afterwards I didn’t pay any attention to the noise. I guess Mr. Sargent thinks I’m a pill!”
“Rot! I’ll bet you lasted longer than Pete expected you to. Of course, I’m not saying that it wouldn’t have been a bully thing for you if you’d gone the distance; you’d have had the whole school inviting you to dinner; but you did pretty well as it was. And, say, talking about that—being popular, I mean, and making a hit—that little meeting with Hobo and Blake was a lucky thing for us, wasn’t it? Look at the way they’ve taken you up, Dud! Fine, what?”
“I suppose so,” agreed the other rather listlessly. “They’ve been awfully nice to me——”
“You bet! And a lot of their crowd, too. Why, say——”
“But I don’t, somehow, care so much about being—being a ‘regular feller’ as I did, Jimmy. I—I’d rather be a good pitcher.”
“Isn’t that human nature?” demanded Jimmy, apparently of the ceiling. “Just as soon as a fellow gets what he wants, he doesn’t want it! You make me tired, Dud! Here I’ve schemed and labored for you——”
“I know, and I’m awfully much obliged,” said Dud soberly. “Only—please don’t do it any more, Jimmy. I’ve had enough of it, I guess.”
“My dear demented friend, you’ve just started! You mustn’t think that just because Hobo Ordway and Nick Blake and Bert Winslow and a few of that close corporation have taken you up that the battle’s won. Far be it from such! The fun’s only started, son. You’ve got two years here yet and you want to make hay while the sun shines. Just you leave it to me——”
“No, you leave it to me now,” said Dud. “I guess it’s like Blake said; every fellow must hoe his own row. And—and I haven’t got time to—to be popular, Jimmy. I just want to get so I can pitch like Ben Myatt.”
“Say, that’s hitching your wagon to a star, all right; Ben being the ‘star’! Maybe you’re right,though. There’s always the danger of having fellows think you’re trying too hard; and they don’t like that. Maybe your scheme is the best, Dud. Foxy, too, I call it.”
“I haven’t any scheme,” denied the other impatiently. “I just want to quit thinking anything about whether fellows like me or don’t like me. I guess if they do it will be because—because I don’t care!”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Jimmy, grinning exasperatingly. “Just let them think you don’t care a fig and they’ll flock to you. Yep, that’s a good idea, Dud.”
“Jimmy, if folks didn’t know you better they’d think sometimes that you were a regular—regular——”
“Feller?” asked Jimmy helpfully.
“Bounder!”
“Oh! Thank you kindly. And such is gratitude! Never mind, son, all you need is food. Let’s get to it.”
“I don’t think—that is, I’m not very hungry——”
“Not hungry! You’re not sick, are you?” Dud shook his head. “Then what’s wrong with you?”
“Well, if you must know,” replied the other desperately, “I—I don’t want to go over there and see the fellows grinning at me.”
“Grinning at you? What would they be doing——Say, for the love of lemons, Dud, get that idea out of your bean! Why, no one’s grinning at you, you three-ply chump! Why should they? Didn’t you go in there and save our bacon for us? Didn’t you work three innings like a regular ‘Matty’? Sure, you did! Then what——”
“And I went to pieces, too, and filled the bases that time,” said Dud bitterly. “Even if they don’t grin I shall know they want to!”
“Piffle! Honest, Dud, I didn’t know you were such a chump. Look here, you’ve been wondering again! Don’t tell me! I can see it. You’ve got your ‘I-wonder’ expression on! You stop thinking about Dud Baker and wash your dirty face and hands and come to eats. I’ll guarantee that you won’t get grinned at once, old man. If I see any fellow trying it I’ll punch his head!”
After all, Dud only wanted to be reassured and had no real intention of missing his supper, for he was undeniably hungry. And so, presently, they were off to dining-hall together, and things were just as Jimmy had predicted. There were no grins, save an occasional friendly one, and no one paid much more attention to Dud than usual. They slipped into their places at table—neither had been called to the training table yet, since accommodations at that board were very limited—and Jimmy, in high spirits, bandied remarks with the others betweenmouthfuls, and Dud tried hard to forget anything that had happened since luncheon.
There was, naturally, much talk of the game and much criticism of various plays, as there always was, and Jimmy, as a participant, was listened to with respect if not with entire credence. At the training table, across the hall, there were no signs of depression, if one could judge by the talk and laughter. In fact, the whole school was looking back on the afternoon’s contest as something very much like a lucky victory. And perhaps it was. At all events, a comparison of the scores showed that Lawrence had made more hits and fewer errors and that the renowned Mr. Fairway had behaved more creditably than the four Grafton pitchers judged together.
When Dud and Jimmy left the dining-hall they ran into Nick Blake and Bert Winslow in the corridor. Dud had determined to avoid any such meeting, but fortune ruled otherwise.
“Hello, James T.,” greeted Nick. “How’s Tris Speaker Junior tonight? Hello, Dud Baker.”
“My arms are a trifle lame,” responded Jimmy. “When a fellow makes all the hits in a game——”
“Hah!” ejaculated Nick mirthlessly. “Again, hah! You make me laugh, Jimmy. He’s a regular funny fellow, isn’t he, Dud? How are you feeling, by the way? Say, that was some twirling you did in the seventh, my lad!”
“How about the tenth?” asked Dud, smiling wanly.
“Well, no harm done, you know,” said Nick cheerfully. “They all get theirs sooner or later, and I dare say if you’d stayed in you’d have pulled yourself out all right.”
“If we hadn’t needed the game so much,” observed Bert, “he’d have stayed in, I guess. I was hoping Guy would let him. It’s a bully good thing for a pitcher to have to dig his way out, Baker. Gives him confidence, you know. If I was captain of a team and a pitcher got in a hole I’d just let him stay right there and crawl out of it. Just let him have to do it, and if he’s the least bit of good, he will. My notion is that if a pitcher thinks he’s going to be relieved any time he goes bad, he’s going bad too plaguey often! That sound like sense to you, Jimmy?”
“I haven’t heard a word that sounded like sense since I got here,” answered Jimmy gravely. “If someone would suggest something to do more exciting than hearing Lit and Forum jabber over some subject like: ‘Resolved: That Marcus T. Cicero was faster on the bases than his brother Quint,’ or ‘That the Penguin is mightier than the Swordfish’!”
“That’s so, it’s debate night, isn’t it?” said Nick. “Who’s going? You, Bert?”
“I suppose so. You?”
“Well, if there was anything better——!”
“There’s a moon,” said Jimmy tentatively.
“Go on, pray! Your words interest me strangely,” prompted Nick, assuming an attitude of suspense.
“And there’s a river——”
“I get you! Will you go, Bert?”
“Bathing? I guess so. Let’s find Hugh. You’ll come, Baker?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got——” Dud stopped abruptly. Jimmy, smiling sweetly, had surreptitiously kicked him on the shin.
“Yes, he’ll come,” said Jimmy. “As this happens to be a Saturday night, Dud, your excuse of having to dig Latin or something is very poor. Let’s find a crowd, fellows.”
“Let’s not,” said Bert. “I’ll round up Hobo and Ted Trafford. They went off a minute ago. That’s enough. By the way, though, I suppose you fellows know that the rules forbid it?”
“No, honest?” Jimmy was evidently as pained as he was surprised. “Did you know that, Nick?”
“News to me, Jimmy! I was never so surprised in my life! Are you sure of what you tell us, Bert?”
“Oh, go to the dickens! Come on then before the moon goes down.”
“Or the river evaporates,” added Jimmy. “I’m going to suggest, fellows, that we avoid publicityas much as possible. The last time I had anything to do with that old river it nearly got me into trouble!”
I feel that I ought to record here that Dud’s conscience made itself heard, and that, refusing to transgress the rules of the school, he persuaded the others to forego the enterprise. I’d like to record that, but I can’t, for Dud’s conscience must have been asleep, and ten minutes or so later he was following the others—and Pop Driver, who had been discovered in the company of Hugh and Ted Trafford and persuaded to join the party—across the Green and Lothrop Field to the Beach, as the scanty expanse of sandy shore bordering the Cove was somewhat ironically called. And I am forced to relate that the moonlight bathing party was a huge success, that it lasted until nearly ten o’clock and that faculty remained forever in ignorance of it. So, it would seem, for once the transgressor went unpunished. But perhaps not, after all, for Nick cut his foot open on a mussel shell or a piece of glass and Ted Trafford caught an awful cold that lasted him nearly until school closed! Possibly the reason that the others escaped retribution was just because their crime was not, after all, especially wicked.