The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall Part 30

"We need to have if we're going to beat out Mount Vernon," said Wayland.

"I hear that they're going great guns in practice."

"We're all right in the outfield," mused the professor. "Duncan at right, Hawley in centre and Melton at left are all good fielders, and they're heavy hitters, too."

"We could make our infield stronger than it is, though. I don't think that----"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Wayland. "Look at that!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

AN EXCITING BATTLE

The "that" was a brilliant bit of fielding "pulled off" by Teddy.

Fred had varied the grounders by sending up a high fly into short centre field. It was away over Teddy's head, and it seemed impossible for him to reach it. But he had started for it at the crack of the bat, and, running like a deer, he just managed to get under it with his ungloved hand. He clung to it desperately, however, and, although he rolled over and over, he rose with the ball in his hand. It was a neat bit of fielding and Teddy got a round of hand clapping from those who had seen it.

"Wasn't that a peach?" asked Wayland enthusiastically.

"It certainly was!" agreed the professor warmly. "I didn't think he had a chance to reach it."

"Of course, one swallow doesn't make a summer," conceded Wayland, "and perhaps he couldn't do it often."

"I don't think it was a fluke," said the professor. "I saw him make a swift pick-up a few minutes ago that nine out of ten would have missed.

And he threw down to first almost on a line. The ball didn't rise more than three inches on the way down."

"If he can keep up that kind of work, he'll give Ward all he can do to hold his job," declared Ned.

"Baseball ability seems to run in the family," said the professor. "Fred is a first-rate pitcher, and, with him in the box besides yourself, I think we'll be well fortified in that position. Besides, he's a good hitter, and on days when he isn't pitching, you can put him in to bat at times when a hit is needed."

"Yes," agreed Ned, "he'll be a great big element in our success this season. That outcurve of his is awfully hard to hit, and his drop ball is a pippin."

"As for the backstop," went on the professor, "Tom Eldridge hasn't any rival. Granger, at first base, is a star both in fielding and hitting.

But we're not any too strong at second. Hendricks doesn't seem to take so much interest in his work as he did last season."

"How would it do to put Morley there, on trial?" suggested Ned. "Then we could s.h.i.+ft Ward to third and try out Teddy Rushton at short."

For several days the sifting process went on, but when the line up was finally settled upon, Teddy held down short, while Fred was to alternate with Ned as pitcher.

The nine practiced faithfully, playing with neighboring village teams and making a good record. They had won three games and lost only one, and that by a close score, when the day came for the Mount Vernon game.

This was to be held on the enemy's grounds, and the boys had a train ride of twenty miles before they reached the station. A crowd of the Rally Hall boys went with them, to root and cheer for a victory over their most important baseball rivals.

The Green Haven station was crowded that morning with hilarious youths, and there was a buzzing as of a swarm of bees, while they waited for their train to come.

The only fly in the ointment was the cloudy condition of the sky. No rain had fallen, but it looked as though it might come down at any moment.

"It's up to us to get a good start early in the game," remarked Fred, "so that if the rain does come down after the fifth inning and we're in the lead, we'll win anyway."

"Right you are," replied Ned. "Last year we lost a game that way just as we thought we had it tucked away in our bat bag. The other fellows were one run ahead, and when we came to bat in our half of the sixth we got three men on bases in less than no time. Our heaviest batters were just coming up, and one of them knocked a homer, clearing the bases and putting us three runs in the lead. The fellows were dancing round and hugging each other, when just then the rain came down like fury and the game had to be called. Of course, our runs didn't count and the score stood as it was at the end of the fifth, with the other fellows ahead. I tell you it was a tough game to lose."

"Well, I swan, It looks like ra-in, Gidde-ap, Napoleon, We'll get the hay in,"

drawled Tom, who had not only a store of good poetry always on tap but was also well provided with plenty that was not so good.

"Your poetry is rank, Tom," laughed Teddy, as he made a pa.s.s at him, "but the sentiment is all to the good. We'll get the hay in in the early part of the game."

Just then there was a whistle in the distance.

"Here she comes!" went up the cry and there was a general scurry toward the front of the platform. The train was a local, with only three cars, and it was a certainty that with the unusual crush that morning a lot of the pa.s.sengers would have to stand.

The train drew up with a clang and a rattle, and there was a regular football rush the moment it came to a stop.

"Get aboard!" shouted one.

"If you can't get a board, get a plank," yelled another.

"Easy there," shouted the conductor, as the swirling mob almost swept him off his feet.

But he might as well have tried to check a cyclone. They swarmed around him, and in less than a minute the train was packed. There was a lot of jolly, good-natured scuffling to get the vacant seats.

"Wow! get off my toes!" yelled one of the unlucky ones.

"How can I help it?" laughed the one addressed. "I've got to stand somewhere, haven't I?"

The conductor wiped his perspiring brow.

"Well, of all the young limbs!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. But his frown quickly melted into a grin. He had boys of his own.

"They can only be kids once," he muttered, as he gave the engineer the signal to go ahead.

Inside the cars, all was cheerful hubbub and confusion.

"Give us a song, Billy!" shouted one.

The request was greeted by a roar of unanimous approval.

"What shall it be?" grinned Billy Burton, who seldom had to be coaxed.

There was a chorus of suggestions, for Billy's repertoire was very extensive. The majority seemed to favor: "We All Sit Round and Listen, When Hiram Drinks His Soup," although there was a strong minority for "When Father Carves the Duck." In order to satisfy them all, Billy sang both ditties to a thunder of applause.

He had to respond to numerous encores, and when at last he was too hoa.r.s.e to sing any longer, the crowd fell back on "Ten Little Injuns"

and "Forty-nine Bluebottles, a-Hanging on the Wall," together with other school favorites. There were any number of discords and any amount of flatting, but little things like that did not bother the young minstrels. They wanted noise and plenty of it. And no one in that train could deny that they got what they wanted.

"Now, Slim, it's up to you," said Ned Wayland. "It's a long time since we've had one of your truthful stories."