Baseball Joe at Yale Part 7

"Oh, I think it's just grand to go to a big college," went on Mabel. "I wish papa would let Tom go."

"I wish so myself," chimed in her brother.

"I know one Yale man," went on Mabel. "I met him this Summer. He was at the game the other day. I could write to him, and tell him you are coming."

"Please don't!" exclaimed Joe so suddenly that Mabel drew back, a little offended.

"Wa'al, I want to shake hands with you, an' wish you all success,"

exclaimed a voice at Joe's elbow. He turned to see Mr. Ebenezer Peterkin, a neighbor. "So you're off for college. I hear they're great places for football and baseball! Ha! Ha! 'Member th' time you throwed a ball through our winder, and splashed Alvirah's apple sa.s.s all over her clean stove? 'Member that, Joe?"

"Indeed I do, Mr. Peterkin. And how you told Tom and me to hurry off, as your wife was coming after us."

"That's right! Ha! Ha! Alvirah was considerable put out that day. She'd just got her stove blacked, an' that sa.s.s was some of her best. Th'

ball landed plump into it! 'Member?" and again the old man chuckled with mirth.

"I remember," laughed Joe. "And how Tom and I blackened the stove, and helped clean up the kitchen for your wife. I was practising pitching that day."

"Oh, yes, you _pitched_ all right," chuckled the aged man. "Wa'al, Joe, I wish you all sorts of luck, an' if you do pitch down there at Yale, don't go to splattering no apple sa.s.s!"

"I won't," promised the lad.

There were more congratulations, more wishes for success, more hand shakings and more good-byes, and then the whistle of the approaching train was heard. Somehow Joe could not but remember the day he had driven the man to the station just in time to get his train. He wondered if he would ever see that individual again.

"Good-bye, Joe!"

"So long, old man!"

"Don't forget to write!"

"Play ball!"

"Good-bye, Joe!"

Laughter, cheers, some tears too, but not many, waving hands, and amid all this Joe entered the train. He waved back as long as he could see any of them, and then he settled back in his seat.

He was off for Yale--for Yale, with all its traditions, its mysteries, its learning and wiseness, its sports and games, its joys and sorrows--its heart-burnings and its delights, its victories--and defeats! Off for Yale. Joe felt his breath choking him, and into his eyes there came a mist as he gazed out of the window. Off for Yale--and baseball!

CHAPTER VI

ON THE CAMPUS

Joe Matson gazed about him curiously as the train drew into the New Haven station. He wondered what his first taste of Yale life was going to be like, and he could not repress a feeling of nervousness.

He had ridden in the end car, and he was not prepared for what happened as the train drew to a slow stop. For from the other coaches there poured a crowd of students--many Freshmen like himself but others evidently Soph.o.m.ores, and a sprinkling of Juniors and the more lordly Seniors. Instantly the place resounded to a din, as friends met friends, and as old acquaintances were renewed.

"h.e.l.lo, Slab!"

"Where have you been keeping yourself, Pork Chops!"

"By jinks! There's old Ham Fat!"

"Come on, now! Get in line!"

This from one tall lad to others, evidently from the same preparatory school. "Show 'em what we can do!"

"Hi there, Fres.h.i.+es! Off with those hats!"

This from a crowd of Soph.o.m.ores who saw the newly-arrived first-year lads.

"Don't you do it! Keep your lids on!"

"Oh, you will!" and there was a scrimmage in which the offending headgear of many was sent spinning. Joe began to breathe deeply and fast. If this was a taste of Yale life he liked it. Somewhat Excelsior Hall it was, but bigger--broader.

Gripping his valise, he climbed down the steps, stumbling in his eagerness. On all sides men crowded around him and the others who were alighting.

"Keb! Carriage! Hack! Take your baggage!"

Seeing others doing the same, Joe surrendered his valise to an insistent man. As he moved out of the press, wondering how he was to get to the house where he had secured a room, he heard someone behind him fairly yell in his ear:

"Oh ho! Fresh.! Off with that hat!"

He turned to see two tall, well-dressed lads, in somewhat "swagger"

clothes, arms linked, walking close behind him. Remembering the fate of the others, Joe doffed his new derby, and smiled.

"That's right," complimented the taller of the two Soph.o.m.ores.

"Glad you think so," answered Joe.

"Well?" snapped the other Soph.o.m.ore sharply.

"Glad you think so," repeated our hero.

"Well?" rasped out the first.

Joe looked from one to the other in some bewilderment. He knew there was some catch, and that he had not answered categorically, but for the moment he forgot.

"Put the handle on," he was reminded, and then it came to him.

"Sir," he added with a smile.

"Right, Fres.h.i.+e. Don't forget your manners next time," and the two went swinging along, rolling out the chorus of some cla.s.s song.

The confusion increased. More students poured from the train, overwhelming the expressmen with their demands and commands. The hacks and carriages were being rapidly filled. Orders were being shouted back and forth. Exuberance was on every side.