Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Billy paused. He had been going to say “as you can,” but diplomacy came to his aid. “As fast as Tom Wallace can,” he substituted.
“Maybe, but you can’t bat a little bit,” responded Arthur triumphantly. “And you know you can’t.”
“If I had more practice, Arthur——”
“No, sir, you couldn’t ever be a real corking batter.” Arthur was kindly but firm. “A fellow has to have the batting eye. Of course I don’t say that maybe if you worked awfully hard this year and practiced every day you mightn’t be a lot better, but I don’t believe you’ll ever be a real star, Billy.” ”

“ The heat had its effect on spectators and players alike. The cheering and singing lacked “pep” and the rival teams comported themselves as though [16] their one desire was to get back to the shade of the benches. Ted glowered and muttered at the slowness of the contest. In the first two innings only a long fly by the Temple second baseman that was neatly captured by Whipple and a couple of inexcusable and innocuous errors livened the dreariness of the game. ”

“ Billy stopped and went and sat on the side porch, with his feet in the mignonette and the hoki-moki bat hugged to his triumphant breast, and dreamed dreams worthy of Cæsar or Napoleon.
The Broadport Juniors wanted to win to-day’s game, wanted to win it more than they wanted to win any other contest in a long and comprehensive schedule. The White Sox team was comprised of boys who lived on the Hill. The Hill was the town’s patrician quarter. Just about everyone who lived up there had an automobile and a chauffeur to drive it and wore their good clothes all the time. ”

“ We won the toss and gave the ball to Enwright. The visitors were a husky lot, all right. They’d won six out of nine games and hadn’t any doubt about winning another to-day. They were a rangy, powerful bunch, and looked fast and keen. As to weight they had it over us by a few pounds in the average, but not enough to worry about. We weren’t worrying about anything, for that matter. We had made up our minds to fight hard and die fighting. Only, we expected to die. And anybody knows that that’s no way to go into a football game. ”

“ I’ll bet he’s feeling perfectly rotten.”
“I know he is,” said Larry Logan. “When Jack doesn’t laugh once in a quarter of an hour——” He shook his head eloquently.
“We’ll miss him Saturday,” mused the coach. “I don’t mean any reflection on you, Logan.”
“I know. A team always feels lost without its captain. It’s going to make a difference in our chances of winning, too. I still think we can pull it out, but—we’ll have to work harder to do it.”
“Funny to have it happen in a game like to-day’s,” grumbled the manager. “Why, it was the easiest game of the season!” ”

“ He had turned his ankle in the third lap, just as he had said, but there was no denying that had Hyde not had a fifteen or twenty yard lead on him he would have finished the race without untold agony. As it was, it wasn’t worth while. Everyone knew that he was better than Hyde. And Walt hated to be beaten! He and Terry didn’t speak to each other just now: didn’t even see each other if they could help it: but Terry heard from Tolly that Walt was making amusing remarks about the new half-miler: and it needed only that to make Terry buckle down to track work harder than ever. ”

“ Billy, his precious bat held firmly between his knees, occupied a seat on the substitute’s bench, a yellow-grained settee borrowed from the High School across the common. He had twice offered his services to Arthur and they had been twice refused, the second time with a scowl. Billy was absolutely certain that he could, if allowed to face [218] the opposing batter, who hadn’t much but a fast ball to boast of, deliver wallops that would radically alter the history of the game. But the hoki-moki bat was no better than any little old sixty-cent stick so long as he was not allowed to use it. ”

“ Terry wanted to think that, too, but he couldn’t quite do it.
On Monday Mr. Cramer surprised him by saying: “I guess you’d better cut out your sprints to-day, Wendell. You didn’t do so badly in the half Saturday and I’ve half a mind to let you see what you can do. How did you come through?”
“Fresh as a daisy, sir.”
“Well, go easy this afternoon. Jog a mile and do a short sprint at the finish. If I were you I’d try for a shorter stride, my boy. It looks to me as if you were straining a bit. There’s nothing in a long stride if it doesn’t come natural.” ”

“ Both sides took to hitting, but hardly a hit got beyond the infield unless it was a high and safe fly, and victory depended on perfect defense. It was, properly enough, Captain Fosdick who broke the tie in the tenth. With one gone and a man on first, Fos laid down a bunt that should have been converted into an easy out. But Lacon’s taut nerves jangled badly and the third baseman, trying for speed, pegged wide of first. The runner on first kept on to third and then, with the ball speeding across to that bag, took a long and desperate chance. ”

“ I got him finally to promise to make a good hard bid the next time. “Just try your best to forget the atmosphere,” said I. “Play your own game, Talmadge. Make up your mind that, no matter whether the rest of the team want to win or get licked, you yourself are dead set on winning. Will you do it?”
“Sure! Much obliged. It’s good of you to—to bother.” He insisted on shaking hands. “If he lets me in Saturday I’ll do the best I can. Maybe it won’t be much, though. After all, I don’t know an awful lot about football. ”

“ Jim Phelan butted in, “who wasn’t sort of small. Did you, Pete? Remember Warner, of two years ago? He was my notion of a properly built lad for the quarter. Wasn’t he a wonder?” Pete said yes, and “Toots” Hanscom, who will take either end of any argument you can start, tried to prove Jim all wrong, and then everyone took a hand. But Jim is stubborn, and he hung out for the small kind. “Take a chap like—well, like Peck there. If he knows the game he will play all around your heavy man or your tall one.” ”

“ But Phil only remarked that he hoped Terry would beat out some of those “one-lungers.”
“‘One-lungers’ is good,” approved Hal laughingly. “Some of those fellows, like Lambert and Tilling, have about as much license to be running in the half-mile as I’d have to—to throw the hammer!”
“Our chance of winning the Dual is about as big as a piece of cheese,” growled Joe. “I was figuring this morning and all I can see with a telescope is forty-four points. We can count on first and second in the hundred-yards and in the mile, but I don’t see another first in sight; unless it’s in the high hurdles.” ”

“ There’s only the Tennis Club left, you know. Unless you go in for chess.”
“Cut it out, Walt,” said Joe. “Let him alone.”
“Then tell him to let me alone. I didn’t say anything to make him jump down my throat. Everyone here knows he’s had a whack at everything there is and fallen down. If he doesn’t like to hear that he knows what he can do. I’m ready to——”
Terry leaped to his feet. “Then come on!” he cried, his eyes blazing. “If you can do anything besides talk, prove it, you—you big——”
“Shut up, Terry!” commanded Joe sternly. “And sit down. There isn’t going to be any scrapping. ”

“ Room-mates who have lived together in harmony for months throw hair-brushes at each other and don’t speak for days at a time. It is, in brief, a deadly dull, wearisome season, a season in which the healthy boy welcomes anything that promises to enliven his pallid existence, when mischief finds its innings and when the weakest, sorriest joke is hailed as roaring farce. At almost any other time the jest on Jonesie would have been laughed at good-naturedly and forgotten the next day, but now it was a thing to be treasured and acclaimed, nourished and perpetuated. ”

“ Tom Burrill drew up in the shade at the side of the road, jumped from the car with a wrench in his hand and, lifting the hood, began to inspect the spark plugs.
He was a healthy, well-built, intelligent-looking boy of seventeen, with a lean, sunburned face. Clear gray eyes, a straight nose, a mouth that showed a sense of humor and a chin that indicated determination were his most noticeable features. He was tall for his years and had the look of one who spends much time out of doors.
The automobile deserves quite as full a description as its owner. ”

“ On bases the three runners danced and shouted. The coachers yelled incessantly. The infield jabbered. But Billy didn’t hear a sound. Now the pitcher’s arm was shooting forward. The ball [224] was singing its way toward him. He tried to watch it and couldn’t. But he swung the hoki-moki bat around just as hard as he knew how, putting every ounce of his strength into it, and something happened. There was a resounding blow, electric tingles shot up Billy’s arms, he staggered and then, first.
Far into right field sped the ball, just inside the base line. In raced the runners. Billy raced too. ”

“ I said. “If he can play like a whirlwind on one team why can’t he do it on another.”
“Search me,” said Tru, “but some fellows are like that. Coach talks of trying him again Saturday against Wooster High. I don’t know if he will, though, for we can’t afford to take any chances. I’d like mighty well,” he added bitterly, “to win one more game this season.”
“One!” said I. “Oh, run away, Tru! The trouble with you chaps is that you’ve lost faith in yourselves. You’re so used to getting the short end of it that you can’t believe in winning. ”

“ If it was only the second team I’d chance putting you in.”
Joe looked troubled. “I’ll try my best, sir,” he said doubtfully.
“We-ell, I don’t know. They’ve got us beaten anyway, and——”
Joe flared up. “They have! Like fun they have! We’ve got ourselves beaten. There isn’t a fellow out there that doesn’t think he’s done for right now. There isn’t one of ’em that really expects to win. There isn’t more than one or two that’s trying. They’re just dying game, that’s all they’re doing! Beaten! Yah, that Enwright bunch would quit cold if someone put up a real fight!” ”

“ The White Sox pitcher tempted him with a low one and with one on the outside, but Joe refused them. Then came a fast one that went as a strike. Then one that hit the dirt just back of the plate. The pitcher frowned and would have sent the next offering in the groove had not the catcher signalled for a pass. Joe walked to first, filling the sacks, and cheers filled the air. Arthur himself followed Joe Ware, and the bunt he trickled along the first base line was a veritable marvel, for it sent a tally across, moved runners from first and second and left Arthur himself safe on his bag! ”

“ Arthur Humbleton observed him frowningly. Then he shook his head. “I don’t see how I could, Billy,” he answered. “The team’s all made up, in the first place, and then you aren’t much of a player. Maybe next year——”
“I can play in the outfield all right,” defended Billy eagerly.
“Oh, most any fellow can catch a fly,” replied the other carelessly. “There’s more to baseball than [205] just that, Billy. You’ve got to know how to run the bases and bat and lots of things.” ”

“ We want to win a week from to-day, Coach. That’s our stunt. Ted Morely’s a sort of protegé of Jack’s, and Jack thinks Ted’s been misjudged, and he wants to give the chap a chance to prove it. He said so himself. But we’re not staging the contest for Morely’s benefit. If he’s got the reputation of being a quitter—and as a matter of fact he has, as you know, Larry—it’s his own fault. It isn’t up to us to worry. ”

“ So far fortune had attended him and he had invariably escaped with his life. Now and then he was allowed to take his turn with the batters and stand up at the plate while Waldo Hutchins pitched his famous “slow ones.” Practice is supposed to make perfect, but Billy was still a long way from perfection as a batsman. Nor could either he or Arthur Humbleton observe any great amount of improvement. But Billy persisted, consoling himself with rosy dreams of the future. Almost any day now the Molly and Kate might return bearing Billy’s Great Discovery. ”

“ The race was telling on him now and his legs were getting heavy and his lungs hot. Into the homestretch they went, the crowd shouting wildly. As they sped past the mark the brazen gong clanged, announcing the beginning of the last lap, and at that instant Mullins dug his spikes and edged himself forward. Past his team-mate he went, past Terry, past Pillon, and took his place close behind Shores. From behind him Terry heard the Lacon supporters shout [96] their triumph. He wondered where Walt was. Every instant he expected to see the blue-and-white runner edge past him. ”

“ The Staunton defenders went down battling gamely, the rush slowed but kept moving. Somewhere in that mêlée was the runner with the precious ball hugged tightly to his body. They were pushing past the ten-yard line now. Cries of exhortation, of despair and of triumph [154] arose above the panting and gasping and the thud of bodies. To the eight yards—to the seven——.
SOMEWHERE IN THAT MÊLÉE WAS THE RUNNER WITH THE PRECIOUS BALL
A brown-legged player picked himself from the turf with distorted face and plunged at the struggling mass. ”