Fast Nine Part 16

On a neutral field, with a firm umpire directing matters and with all the partic.i.p.ants members of the Boy Scouts, it was believed that for once a game between these old rivals might be threshed out to a conclusion.

Many shook their heads, remembering the Matt Tubbs of old and prophesying all manner of evil things that might spring from this bitterly contested game. Others, who knew something of the principles governing true scouts, tried to take heart of hope and believe that there must have been a great awakening in the former bully. But even they admitted that "the proof of the pudding lay in the eating of it,"

and that they would be better satisfied when the end came without a riotous demonstration on the part of Fairfield and Cramertown.

The Hickory Ridge boys seemed to acquit themselves very well in practice. Numerous dazzling pick-ups were made by the infield that brought out roars of applause from the big crowd; while those tending the outer gardens had to make rapid speed and do some air-jumping in order to drag down the flies that were sent out in their direction.

Having seen both teams at work, the crowd hardly knew which looked the better. And, as in most cases, it ended in a strictly partisan division, each town standing loyally by its athletes, with Basking Ridge about equally divided.

Finally the Hickory Ridge fellows were called in from the field. The time for practice had expired, and presently, when a few little details were gone through with, real business would begin.

The two teams lined up for the fray in this order:

HICKORY RIDGE SCOUTS.

Ted Burgoyne Third Base Toby Jones Right Lil Artha First Base Chatz Maxfield Left Red Huggins Short Stop Ty Collins Center Matty Eggleston Second Base Elmer Chenowith Pitcher Mark c.u.mmings Catcher

FAIRFIELD SCOUTS.

Felix Wagner Second Base Adrian Cook Left John Bastian Right Henry Cobb Third Base Christy Poole First Base Angus McDowd Center John Mulligan Short Stop Tom Ballinger Catcher Matt Tubbs Pitcher

There was a wave of talk pa.s.sing over the throng as the two captains conferred. It was understood that they were deciding finally on the ground rules that must prevail, on account of the ma.s.s of spectators pus.h.i.+ng in on the lines. All Basking Ridge's local police force was on the spot, but half a dozen good-natured officers are next to useless when up against thousands; in contests of this sort dependence must be placed on the spirit of fair play that is generally a part of baseball crowds, especially in smaller towns, where the players are known.

"The game is called; now for it!" yelled the nearest spectators, as they saw the umpire pick up his mask and step forward to announce the batteries, while the Hickory Ridge players started for their positions.

"And we have the last look-in, as we take the field first!" howled an enthusiastic follower of the team that looked to Elmer as the keystone of their arch.

CHAPTER XIV.

HOW THE FIGHT WENT ON.

"THE batteries for to-day's game will be: Chenowith and c.u.mmings for Hickory' Ridge; Tubbs and Ballinger for Fairfield!"

The last word of the umpire was drowned in a roar, and the air seemed filled with waving hats, parasols of gaudy hues, handkerchiefs, and anything else that could be utilized for the occasion.

Then came a dead silence. Every eye, doubtless, was at that moment riveted on the young pitcher of the nine in the field as he sent in a few straight ones to his catcher, just to find the plate.

"They say he's got speed to burn," remarked one Basking Ridge spectator who had never before seen Elmer pitch.

"But the best thing he's got is a nasty little slow drop that's running Christy Matthewson a close race," commented a second one.

"Oh, shucks!" laughed a Fairfield boy close by; "wait till you see how our fellows fatten their averages on those nice little drop balloons.

We've heard a heap about 'em, and have been practicing at hitting all such. Why, mark my words, before the end of the fifth inning this wonderful Elmer will be so tame he'll be eating out of the Fairfield players' hands."

"Wait and see. The game is young," called another fellow.

"I should say it was, when the first ball hasn't been sent over the rubber yet," declared still a fourth spectator.

"Play ball!" shouted the umpire, as he settled himself back of the pitcher.

Again came silence as Elmer, receiving the ball from first base, rubbed it on the leg of his trousers preparatory to shooting the first one over.

A shout went up. Wagner, the stout second baseman, had failed to judge correctly and "one strike" was recorded against him.

"But did you hear the swish of his bat?" demanded the Fairfield enthusiast. "Say, if ever he leans up against one of those curves, good-by to the ball, that's all."

"Sure! Only let him lean; that's what we say. He just can't do it on Elmer," answered a devoted Hickory Ridge lad near by.

Then came a second strike, followed by a foul. Wagner looked puzzled.

Evidently he was watching the pitcher closely and going by his signals to the catcher, but as these had been turned almost completely about, he mistook every one of them and was letting himself out at what would easily have been called b.a.l.l.s.

When for the third time he had a strike called on him the batter retired amid a storm of mingled cheers and catcalls. He had allowed a good ball to pa.s.s by him without making an effort to strike, believing from the gestures of Elmer that it was meant to be a wide one.

Wagner went off, shaking his head. He was evidently mystified, and the Fairfield crowd began to sit up and take notice.

"That's a funny thing for Felix to do," they commented. "He's the most reliable batter in our bunch, and yet he acts as though he didn't know a good one from a wide curve a foot from the plate. Say, that pitcher must have him locoed."

Next came Adrian Cook. He, too, was known as a hitter, and when he stepped to the batter's line the fielders were accustomed to backing off, ready for a terrific drive.

But it began to look as though Adrian must have forgotten to bring his batting clothes along with him, judging by the way he swiped at the empty air twice, and then managed to pop up a measly little foul that Mark easily smothered in his big catcher's mitt.

"What are we up against?" the Fairfield crowd began to say.

"Oh, that's nothing," others put in, more confident. "The boys will wake up after a little. You wait and see them take his number. Once they begin, the air will be full of b.a.l.l.s and those fielders' tongues will hang out of their mouths from chasing them!"

So they talked, as all partisan crowds do, while Bastian toed the mark.

He looked particularly dangerous as he half crouched there watching Elmer like a cat might a mouse he expected to devour.

But Bastian was no better than the others who had preceded him. He had two strikes called on him by the umpire without having even made a motion.

"Hey, wake up! Get out of that trance. Jack! He's feeding you good ones and you don't know it! Now, altogether, and send one out in center for a homer!"

Jack did his best, just as Elmer knew he was bound to. He believed he saw the pitcher signal that he meant to cut the middle of the plate with the next; when in reality it was intended to be a wide one. And so he too perished, amid the cheers of Hickory Ridge, and the groans of Fairfield.

By the time another chance at bat came for Matt Tubbs's band, there would be excited conferences going on. These heavy batters would soon awaken to the fact that the signals given to them by Lon Braddock were all wrong; and that by trying to take a mean advantage of Elmer they were only digging their own graves.

Matt Tubbs was certainly at his best that day; and he had always been known as a clever pitcher. Ted followed the fate of the three Fairfield batters, and along the same road, for he struck out.

Toby lifted a great fly that soared away up in the air. He was making for second under full steam, believing that McDowd out in center field could never get under the ball, when the cheers that broke forth announced a clever catch. And Toby was compelled to walk back to the bench, resolving that another time he would try to put it far over McDowd's head.

Lil Artha succeeded in placing a corking one that landed him on first, to the accompaniment of riotous cheers; but he died there; for Chatz was able only to connect with the ball after he had had two strikes called on him, and put up one of those miserable pop fouls that make a batter rave.

So the second inning began.