CHAPTER XXVLEFT BEHIND
Grafton jubilated and made glad. Nate Leddy spent a sorrowful evening and refused the comfort offered by his roommate. Gus Weston was inclined to be talkative about his share in the victory, but no one took Gus seriously. Of all those who had taken part in the contest, it remained to Jimmy Logan alone to be triumphant. Jimmy triumphed and made no bones about it. I don’t mean that he went around throwing his chest out or figuratively crowning himself with laurel and with bay. Oh, not at all. Jimmy was not self-assertive in the least. He only smiled when laudation came his way, and strove to impress others as being firmly of the idea that what he had done had been nothing to speak of, absolutely nothing. Only, now that it had been mentioned, wasn’t it a joke on Star Meyer? Star hadn’t made a hit in the game and had fielded—well, anyone knew what Star’s fielding was like! And then, just when he had a chance to really do something for himself and the team, Pete had yanked him away from the plate. Not, however,that, in Jimmy’s belief, Starwouldhave done anything. Probably quite the contrary and otherwise. Star, he reflected compassionately, must be feeling rather cheap, eh?
Jimmy fairly haunted Star’s waking hours for the next day or two. No matter where Star went, there also was Jimmy, Jimmy with a sympathetic mien and a sly twinkle in his eye. Star ran across him in corridors, on the Green, on the Campus, on the field, everywhere. And, on Sunday afternoon, trying to find sanctuary in the library, he hid himself behind an atlas of the world in a secluded corner, only to hear a few minutes later the sound of footsteps on the floor and to glance over the top of his book into the sweetly condoling countenance of Jimmy. Star dropped the atlas with a mutter of despair and sought his room.
There were plenty who predicted that Jimmy had ousted Star from center field, and Jimmy himself believed that he had, and yet when Wednesday came around, bringing final examinations to an end and Yarrow High School to the scene, Jimmy again decorated the bench and it was Star who ambled out to center field! And, oh, the chagrin of Jimmy!
There isn’t much to tell of that game. Yarrow had been selected because she was not calculated to make hard work for Grafton, and she proved the wisdom of the selection. Brunswick started in thebox for the Scarlet-and-Gray and lasted three innings and a third of the next. Then Dud went to the rescue and stopped the onslaught of the enemy. He was instructed not to exert himself and didn’t need to, but, possibly for fear that he might, Gus Weston relieved him in the eighth. Meanwhile Grafton kept her plate clean and scored eight runs on her own account. Except that it kept the players in form and took the place of a game with the second—which team, by the way, was at Greenbank receiving a rather conclusive drubbing from the Mount Morris second nine—that contest might just as well have not been played. Yarrow High was not enough of an opponent to test Grafton’s ability in any line. But it served to keep the enthusiasm up, if anything was needed for such a purpose, and gave the Scarlet-and-Gray something to while away the time with. The next day was to be Graduation Day and many fathers and mothers and assorted relatives and friends were already on hand. The Glee and Mandolin and Banjo Clubs discoursed in the Gymnasium that evening and there was a dance afterwards. The dance, however, was not for the baseball players, or, at least, only a few numbers of it, for they were supposed to be tucked in bed at ten o’clock. Let’s hope that most of them were. I know, though, that Jimmy wasn’t. Jimmy at that particular hour was perched rather precariously onthe footboard of Dud’s bed explaining at great length and with a fine flow of language his opinion of Star Meyer and Coach Sargent and Guy Murtha and all others who in any way represented authority in baseball affairs. Jimmy wasn’t nearly through when Dud fell asleep.
Graduation Day dawned fair and only mildly hot and went, as many had gone before at Grafton and as many would later. There were the exercises in the hall at eleven, at which some thirty seniors received diplomas and some one hundred and eighty others applauded deafeningly. Several that we know were among the fortunate young gentlemen: Ted Trafford, captain of last fall’s football team; Roy Dresser, Guy Murtha, of present fame; Joe Leslie, class president; Gordon Parker, Nate Leddy, Ben Myatt, Neil Ayer, Jack Zanetti, of track and football renown, and some others doubtless. And—I had almost forgotten—Pop Driver! Yes, Pop actually received his diploma at last and bore up very modestly under the acclaim that almost swept the roof from the building!
And there was a royal luncheon in dining-hall at one-thirty, and after that “spreads,” as the fellows liked to call them, in various dormitory rooms, and still later, lemonade and sandwiches and cakes set out on a long table in front of Manning. In the evening Forum and Lit held their big debate of theyear, and Lit won hands down, and the admiring fathers and mothers and sisters and aunts and—oh, all the rest of them, clapped and beamed and were extraordinarily proud. And then there were more refreshments and, at last, everyone went home—somewhere.
The exodus began the next morning, but less than half the students deserted. Most of them, accompanied by compliant parents, entrained for Greenbank at eleven-ten or twelve-twenty-five to see the ball game. At a few minutes after twelve Grafton was pretty well deserted. Mr. Crump, the worthy head janitor, remained, I think, and possibly a stray member of the faculty, but Doctor Duncan went and “J. P.” went and “Jimmy” Rumford and, oh, just about everyone! And so we might as well go too!
The team, fifteen strong exclusive of manager and assistant manager and Mr. Sargent and “Dinny” Crowley and “Davy” Richards, left on the later train. A five-minute wait at the junction, spent in working off a little extra enthusiasm, and then they boarded the main line train and were hustled away toward Greenbank and whatever fate awaited them.
Of course most everyone hoped for a second victory since it would leave them free to go home for the summer, but there were one or two enthusiasts who were willing to see the series go to three games. Among the latter was Dud, for Dud wanted verymuch indeed to pitch in one Mount Morris contest, and he saw no likelihood of doing it unless that third game was played. Most of the fellows proclaimed their belief that Grafton would again take the measure of her opponent this afternoon, but secretly they doubted it. Mount Morris had nearly always taken one game, and today, playing on her own field, surrounded by her graduation crowd, and smarting under the defeat of last week, she was certain to make a fine fight for victory.
Mr. Sargent, Murtha, Barnes and Mr. Crowley occupied seats together and spent most of the time between Needham Junction and Greenbank laying plans for the contest. Dud and Jimmy sat together further back in the coach, Jimmy doing his best to make Star Meyer uncomfortable by staring at the back of his head. There was a good deal of talk and laughter and some horse-play, for the fellows had the coach pretty much to themselves until Webster was reached. There was a delay at Webster, for a branch line train with which the express made connection had not arrived. Most of the fellows disembarked to stretch their legs and harry the station agent, and Jimmy and Dud were of the number. Jimmy insisted on taking his stand on the platform opposite the window at which Star sat and staring him out of countenance until Dud dragged him away by main force.
“I’ll bet,” chuckled Jimmy as, having promised to behave, he obtained his release from his chum’s grasp, “I’ll bet that Star will be glad when he hikes out for home! I never knew a fellow who disliked to be looked at as much as he does!”
“Looked at!” said Dud. “You’re enough to drive the fellow crazy! I wouldn’t be surprised if he dreams of you at night, you and your—er—bacillus stare!”
“I think the word isbasilisk,” replied Jimmy sweetly. “Not that it matters, however. Not that anything matters except whether I beat that chump out for the position of center fielder today. Say, where are you taking me? Suppose the train starts up?”
“It won’t. You heard the trainman say we were waiting for the local, and that comes in over there on the other side of the station. Let’s see if there are any fish in this stream.”
“Who cares whether there are or not?” But Jimmy followed along the embankment to lean beside Dud over the railing of the culvert and stare into the little brook that flowed beneath. “I see a frog down there, if that will do you any good. I’d like to catch him and put him down Star’s neck!”
They had wandered some forty or fifty yards back from the rear car, which the team had taken possession of, and consequently when a bell clangedfar down the track and the command “All abo-o-oard!” reached them, as it did at that moment, they didn’t waste time in expressing surprise or consternation but set off as fast as their feet would carry them.
“That trainman,” panted Jimmy, “will come to a bad end!”
Whether the conductor failed to see them or whether he gave them credit for an astonishing celerity they never knew, but the train began to move before they had covered half the distance between the culvert and the last platform of the rear car. Running over ties is not conducive to speed and for a moment or two they despaired of reaching their goal. But they did reach it, just when the end of the station platform threatened to defeat their efforts, and Jimmy, leading, grasped a handful of iron railing and gave a spring.
What happened next was always very confused in their minds. They had noticed that the rear platform was occupied by someone, but had not recognized who that someone was. As Jimmy’s fingers closed about the railing at the steps a rubber-soled shoe was placed against his chest and the very next thingJimmyknew hewas rolling over on the platform and Dudwas rolling overwith him, and the train was rods away!
“Jimmy ... was rolling over on the platform and Dud ... with him”
“Jimmy ... was rolling over on the platform and Dud ... with him”
“Jimmy ... was rolling over on the platform and Dud ... with him”
Struggling somehow to his feet, Jimmy gave chase,shouting like a wild Indian and causing a stupendous commotion amongst the few occupants of the platform. But all he got for his pains was an ironic farewell wave from the figure in the doorway of the last car!
Dud, rather pale of face, joined him, dusting his clothes and staring dazedly after the disappearing express. Jimmy, wild-eyed, turned sputteringly.
“D-did you see who that was?” he demanded. “It was Star Meyer! He pushed me off the step! He—he kicked me off! I might have been killed! You wait! You wait till I——”
But Jimmy was fairly gibbering now. Dud handed his straw hat to him. “Never mind about that now,” he said impatiently. “The question is how we’re to get to Greenbank. How far is it?”
“I don’t know. You wait till I get my hands on that—that——”
“Let’s find out,” interrupted Dud anxiously. “The game’s at two-thirty and it must be half-past one now. Maybe there’s another train that will get us there in time, Jimmy.”
Jimmy stopped his mouthings and hurried after Dud to the waiting-room, unconscious of the curious regard of the small audience. The agent was most unsympathetic. He had been chivied by the fellows and made sport of and he seemed to think that it served these two young rascals just aboutright. His replies to their anxious questions were short and discouraging. No, there wasn’t another train to Greenbank before two-forty-eight. No, he didn’t know how they were to get there by half-past two. (His tone implied that he hoped they wouldn’t!) Yes, they might be able to get a carriage to drive them over. There was a livery stable about a mile down the road there. And the distance to Greenbank by rail was nine miles.
They retired to consider. A mile walk to the livery stable didn’t appeal to them and Dud suggested telephoning. Fortunately, there was a booth in the corner of the waiting-room and Jimmy possessed a nickel. They crowded in and at last, after much delay, got the stable. But the voice at the other end was not at all reassuring. They had carriages enough and horses enough, but just now there wasn’t anyone to drive ’em. If they could wait until two o’clock maybe Billy would be back from Chester. Jimmy impatiently suggested that they could drive themselves and the stable could send a man over to Greenbank on the train to bring the team back. But that didn’t appear feasible to the man on the telephone. Mr. Libby, it appeared, had gone to the city. (Mr. Libby, they gathered, was the proprietor.) If Mr. Libby was there maybe he’d let ’em have a rig, but the speaker declined to shoulder the responsibility. In short, the only course was toawait the return of Billy at two—or maybe half-past—or three, at the latest!
Jimmy hung up the receiver impatiently.
“I suppose there isn’t a trolley?” murmured Dud. They consulted the agent once more. He showed peevishness at being required to awake from his nap and open the window again and took evident pleasure in informing them that the nearest trolley line was four miles distant and that it didn’t go to Greenbank, anyway; leastways, not direct; it went to West Shoreham first. The window descended with a venomous bang.
Dud and Jimmy, hands in pockets, wandered disconsolately back to the platform. There was an unoccupied baggage truck there and they seated themselves on it and swung their legs and stared forlornly at a field of potatoes.
“I dunno,” murmured Jimmy hopelessly.
Dud consulted his watch. It was now one-forty-six. In three-quarters of an hour the game would start. And they wouldn’t be there! Of course it wasn’t very likely that he would have had a chance to pitch today, anyhow, but there was always the possibility. Dud sighed deeply and Jimmy echoed the sigh. It had just occurred to him that there was now no question as to who would play center field.
“If I ever lay my hands on that skunk,” broke forth Jimmy, “I’ll—I’ll just about——”
But Dud interrupted by sliding off the truck and walking away down the platform.
“Where are you going?” called Jimmy.
“I’m going to Greenbank,” answered Dud.
“How?”
“Walk!”
“Walk! Walk nine miles? Why it’ll take hours!”
“All right,” replied Dud over his shoulder. “Let it. But I’m going to get there, just the same, Jimmy.”
“But—here, hold on!” Jimmy followed at a trot. “What’s the use, Dud? We won’t get there until the game’s ’most over, and——”
“Can’t help it. I started out to see that game and I’m going to! Besides, a fellow might as well be walking as sitting around on that platform. I can do nine miles in two hours, I guess.”
“Two hours! Oh, jimminy!” Jimmy looked longingly back at the shaded platform.
“What do you say?” demanded Dud. “Coming along?”
“I suppose so,” said Jimmy in a weak voice. “I don’t see what good it is, but—all right, Dud, I’ll have a try at it. Nine miles! Gee!”
“Come on then,” said Dud. “Let’s hike.”