Kitabı oku: «Fast Nine: or, A Challenge from Fairfield», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XV.
LIL ARTHA PLANTS HIS GARDEN IN DEEP CENTER
"Crack!"
"He did it!" yelled the Hickory Ridge fellows, as Toby started on a run for the first sack, while Bastian was chasing the ball in short right.
"Bully boy, Toby! You're IT!" shrieked an excited rooter, jumping up and down as he swung his hat, and ending by dancing a hornpipe, to the amusement of some of the crowd, though a disgusted Cramertown fellow loudly advised him to "hire a hall."
"Now Lil Artha, you know what to do!" called a fellow near by.
"Does he!" echoed Larry Billings, waving his hand at the speaker. "Well, just keep your eye on him, that's all. Oh, it's good-by to that ball. It's going over into the next county!"
The tall captain of the Hickory Ridge nine stood at the plate in what some people considered a careless attitude.
"Why, he doesn't seem to care whether he hits the ball or not," they declared. "I think Matt Tubbs ought to have a snap with that bean pole!"
But every batter has his favorite way of waiting for the ball. Some swing their bats nervously, and often fail to recover in time; others stand there like statues, with every nerve contracted, and their eyes fixed on the pitcher.
Lil Artha did neither. He chopped at the tuft of short grass near the rubber, nodded at Tubbs, and then slouched there in his ungainly attitude. But Matt Tubbs was not deceived in the least. He knew that in Lil Artha he had the most dangerous batter in the entire nine to contend with. His movements were like lightning, once he started.
One, two, three balls followed in rapid succession.
"Hey, he's afraid of Lil Artha! he's goin' to give him his base!" arose the shout.
It looked very much that way, and Lil Artha himself feared that he was about to be cheated out of his chance for that little garden beyond right center. Those agile Fairfield fellows must be thinking that triple plays grow on bushes; and the pitcher was hoping to have another pulled off.
"Smash!"
"Oh, what a hit!"
"He leaned way out, and took a wide curve right on the nose!"
"Look at her go, would you!"
"A home run hit, fellows; bully for Lil Artha! He's all to the good!"
"What would he do if he was twice as tall, hey, tell me that?" demanded a disgusted Fairfield backer, as he watched the two figures careering around the circuit.
"Watch him run, boys! Why, he could get home ahead of Toby. There they come in, neck and neck!"
"But where's the ball?" demanded one fellow.
"McDowd is chasing it yet. He'll get it after a while. There never was such a long hit made on these grounds, that's dead sure. It was a peach!"
Two runs looked pretty big in such a bitterly contested game.
"Even if we don't get another, that ought to win, if Elmer can keep up his fine work," Mr. Garrabrant declared, as he sat in the midst of his boys, and shook hands with the tall panting first baseman as he dropped down.
"Then we've just got to work to hold them, see?" said Red, who was picking out a hat, as Chatz had stepped cut to the rubber.
"Oh, don't got that notion in your heads, boys," laughed Elmer. "Perhaps we can add a few more for good measure. Matt may be rattled after those two screamers. Try and hit her out, Red."
But Matt Tubbs instead of being upset by his misfortunes seemed better than ever. He easily disposed of Chatz; and while Red did get on first through an error of the shortstop, who threw wide, he died there. Ty shot up a zigzag foul that Ballinger managed to just grasp, after staggering back and forth like a drunken man in the effort to judge its eccentric motions; and Matty's offering was taken by Cook in left field.
So the seventh began. The Fairfield rooters, faithful to their team, began to call out encouraging words, such as the "lucky seventh."
McDowd started out well. He drew a pass by refusing to try to take the slow one that just failed to cross over the rubber. Then he stole second, though Mark got the ball down to Red in good style; but a great slide saved the runner, according to the umpire, who was on the spot. There was no protest against the decision, even though most of the Hickory Ridge players thought the man was fairly out. They were much too game to show that they could not take their medicine when the decision went against their side.
Elmer put on a little more speed.
"Hey!" called out Mulligan as he stood there and heard a strike called: "what're ye thryin' to do wid me, Elmer? Sure that wan had whiskers on it: I heard 'em brush past me leg. Thry it again, me honey, and see what I do."
He tried to bunt the next one, but made a failure of the job; for Elmer had readily guessed that such must be his orders, with that man on second.
So Mulligan passed away, being fed one of the teasers that he tried to meet by stepping forward, but without the slightest success.
Next came Ballinger, the catcher. Like most men behind the bat, accustomed to seeing all manner of balls coming toward men throughout the whole game, Ballinger was a fairly good man with the stick. He believed he could pick out a good one, and do something worth while.
His best was a high fly that Ty gathered in away out in deep center; but after the ball settled in his hands McDowd managed to make third, again by a slide, at which he seemed particularly clever.
It was now up to Matt Tubbs. Adopting the tactics of his rival when Lil Artha was at bat, Elmer sought to pass the hard-hitting pitcher of the Fairfields. He had given two balls when Matt reached out, and took one that was intended as a wide curve.
It shot past Matty near second, and went buzzing out into the field. Even then it was tagged with so much speed that before it could be sent in home McDowd had scored, and Tubbs was nestled on the second bag.
Then arose a fearful roar. If only Wagner had found his batting eye he would surely send his captain home with the tying run.
"Lucky seven, Felix! You know what we want! Everybody holler!"
Such a terrible racket as ensued. Of course part of this came from excitement; but there was also a desire to put heart in the Fairfield players, as well as to rattle Elmer.
He showed no sign of going to pieces. His manner would indicate that he was as cool as a cucumber. Wagner was dancing around the home plate, trying to tantalize the opposing pitcher.
"Strike one!" called the umpire, as a good one whizzed past.
"Get up against it, Felix. Quit your kiddin', and do business. It only takes one to bring Matt in!" shouted a player.
Wagner now toed the mark, and prepared to strike. The shouts died away as quickly as they had sprung into existence. All eyes were on the pitcher, and the lad who stood there, lazily swinging his bat forward and back in regular rhythm, as he endeavored to gauge the coming delivery of the ball.
Judgment at such a critical time has to come with the rapidity of lightning. In the flash of an eye the batter has to decide whether it is a drop, an out curve, an inward shoot, a straight, swift one over the rubber, or a teaser that will apparently start out well, only to hold up in mid-air, and leave him to strike long before the ball gets within reaching distance.
Wagner waited and struck at a slow drop. What was more, he hit it, too, a vicious tap that electrified the entire crowd. Again those who were sitting down jumped up to see what had happened. They evidently expected to see one of the fielders running like mad after the ball. Nothing of the sort.
Red simply threw out, and touched Matt Tubbs as he tried to get back to second in great haste, after realizing that the ball had been shot straight into the hands of short.
It was, of course, a double play, unassisted. And tumultuous cheers followed as the Hickory Ridge boys came trotting in from the field. Nothing would do but that Red must take off his cap, and thus acknowledge the fact that the fickle populace wished to do him honor.
In their half of the seventh the Hickory Ridge fellows made another hard bid for a run. Elmer, the first man up, drove the first ball pitched out in right for a single. Mark duplicated the performance, only he seemed rather to fancy the left garden for his planting.
Two on bases, and none out! Catcalls and groans marked the disgust of the rooters who wanted to see Fairfield win, while loud cheers told the club at bat that their friends expected them to add to the score this inning.
But that wizard Tubbs was at it again. He mowed Ted down without mercy. The batter afterward declared that the ball went past him with wings on it; and that he couldn't make sure whether it passed over the rubber or two feet outside.
Toby had been fairly lucky in meeting the offerings of Matt; but he, too, fell a victim. Meanwhile the fellows on bases, much as they wanted to engineer a double steal, found not the slightest chance to do so, with this clockwork going on between the pitcher and catcher.
Lil Artha was up again.
Would he duplicate his previous performance, and send out a homer? McDowd evidently feared as much, to judge from the way he went back. But Lil Artha fooled them all, for he dropped a little one between first and second, and while nobody got home on the hit, he managed to gain first through the fumble.
Chatz had a glorious opportunity presented to him. A hit would mean two more tallies. Chatz tried his best, and connected with a good one. With the crack of the bat the crowd uttered a thrilling shout. Then they saw Poole, playing just off first, gather the ball in with astonishing cleverness, and leap for his bag.
In the eighth it was just one, two, three for Fairfield. Elmer bad them guessing all the time with his curves, his change to a swift one, and then that terrible teaser that only one fellow had as yet managed to connect with, and that to his side's undoing.
Nor were the Hickory Ridge boys able to add more runs in their half, four batters only facing Tubbs.
The ninth opened. Unless Fairfield could score one run to tie, the game would end then and there, the Hickory Ridge fellows having no need to go in again.
It was a tense situation when, with one man on second, and but a single fellow out, Elmer stood up to his work, smiling, cool and satisfied that he could do it, with the fine assistance he was receiving from his backing.
In vain did the next batter try to connect. One little foul was the best he was able to do. That brought it to the last one, who chanced to be the hard-hitting catcher, Ballinger.
A dead silence fell upon the crowd as Elmer began to feed him slow ones. Once Ballinger struck, and was greeted by a whoop from the excited Hickory Ridge rooters, anxiously watching every move. The next one he declined to touch; and lo, it went over the plate for a second strike. Rendered desperate finally, and seeing still a third floater coming sailing wabblingly along, Ballinger stepped forward and made a vicious swing for it, only to have his bat pass through thin air.
Then arose a tumultuous whoop. The game was over, and the score stood two to one in favor of Hickory Ridge.
While the shouts of the multitude were still ringing out, Elmer made straight for the rival pitcher, and thrust out his hand.
"Bully for you, Matt," he said. "It was so even that one little thing settled it – that home run hit. And if you haven't won this game, Matt, it's plain to be seen you've won another that counts for much more. I say good luck to the scouts of Fairfield. They're going to make things hum around here, I guess."
"That's nice of you, Elmer," returned Matt, quietly, yet with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "Somebody's got to lose, and next time it may be you fellers. But I reckon as how Fairfield people knows by now that things has changed some since these here games used to break up in a row. Never again. We're in this scout business for keeps now, and you got to look out, Elmer, if you don't want us to beat you when the two troops get together for tests."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MYSTERY SOLVED
"I want you to go over with me to Colonel Hitchins, Mark," said Elmer, on the morning after the great victory over the Fairfield scout nine.
"Oh, see here, has it anything to do with that mystery connected with my cap being found under those peach trees that were robbed?" demanded Mark, jumping up; for his chum had found him in his den, busily engaged.
"Perhaps," smiled the other. "And oh, by the way, Mark, perhaps you'd better be sure and wear the very cap that was found. I might want to show it to the colonel again for a purpose."
He declined to say anything more, even though Mark teased him as he got his own wheel out, and the two started forth.
"Just you hold your horses," he said, shaking his head stubbornly. "Sometimes it seems like a long night, but daylight always comes in the end."
"I take that to mean you've made some sort of discovery, then," declared Mark; "and honest, now, Elmer, I'll be mighty glad to know the truth. That thing has puzzled me a heap, I admit. Perhaps Phil Lally has confessed that he found my cap, and left it there when he robbed the trees, meaning to have me looked on as the thief."
"Shucks, Phil Lally never saw your cap; and even if he did he wouldn't know it from mine or some other fellow's.
"Wait, and don't get so impatient. Unless I miss my guess, it'll soon be old history," and Elmer led the way along the road at a hot pace.
They soon arrived at the place of Colonel Hitchins.
"There's Phil Lally working in the garden, and he looks satisfied with the way things have come out," remarked Elmer, as they passed toward the mansion.
"Why shouldn't he be?" argued Mark. "If Phil had his deserts, he'd be on the way to a ten-year sentence at the penitentiary right now. But the old gentleman knew what he was doing when he gave him this last chance; and I really believe the fellow will make good now."
"I'm dead sure of it," Elmer added. "He's had his eyes opened, and the thought of his old and fond mother is going to keep him on the narrow path. But say, turn aside here, and let's take a peep at the tool house, where I had that little rumpus Saturday night."
"I'd like to see it," remarked the other, eagerly; for by this time he knew all the particulars of his chum's exciting adventure, and was deeply interested in everything that pertained to it.
So they walked around the tool house, and even stepped inside, while Elmer proceeded to once more relate how he had managed to fasten the two men in, after they had entered in search of kerosene.
"Hello!" remarked Elmer, finally, "there's Bruno wagging his tail at us; he knows me by now, and we are pretty good friends; but, all the same, I don't mean to get too close to him when his master isn't around."
"He's a fine looking dog, as sure as anything," observed Mark.
"He sure is," Elmer went on, and then added: "see him shake that old shoe he has in his mouth! Just imagine it to be some other dog that Bruno is fighting with. I'd hate to have those teeth set in my leg, wouldn't you, Mark?"
"Well, rather," came the ready reply. "But look there, do they give him old shoes and such things to play with; I can count three close by his kennel right now? Perhaps it's the right thing for a dog's teeth, to chew on old leather."
Elmer laughed out loud at the suggestion.
"That's a new one on me," he declared; "but here comes Phil Lally from the garden. Let's put it up to him. He's been with the Colonel some time, and ought to be on to some of the tricks of Bruno."
Phil Lally smiled at seeing Elmer. He had taken a great liking to the boy; and no doubt had heard some things in connection with him from his employer at the time they talked matters over.
"Glad to see yuh here this fine morning, Elmer," he remarked. "And they tell me yuh knocked the Fairfield team out yesterday, good and hard. The kunnel says it was the best game he ever saw, barring none, and he's an old hand, yuh know."
"We all thought it a dandy," laughed Elmer; "and every fellow deserved a share of the glory. I pitched my best; but where would we have been if it hadn't happened that Lil Artha drove out that homer, fetching a run in ahead of him? But Mark here was wondering if you fed Bruno on old shoes; or gave them to him to keep his teeth in good condition, because there are just three around here. We don't happen to be from Missouri, Phil, but we want to know."
The man laughed loudly.
"Well, after all, it looks that ways, Elmer," he said. "But the fact is, nobody wants to make Bruno mad by takin' away his playthings. I tried it once, and would yuh believe it, the critter made a jump for me, and growled so ugly that after that I jest vowed he could keep piling 'em up, for all of me."
"Oh, I see; then you don't toss them to him?" said Mark, while his chum smiled, as though fairly well satisfied with the way the conversation had turned.
"Who, me, give Bruno them old shoes?" ejaculated Phil Lally. "Well, I guess not. He gets 'em all hisself. It's an old trick of Bruno's. There have been times when he's had as much as seven old shoes layin' around here at one time. When I gets a chanct I sneaks 'em away an' buries the same. Got a regular cemetery fur old shoes back o' the stable."
"But where does he get them, if he's chained up here all the time?" asked Mark.
"What, him?" echoed the gardener. "Oh, nobody don't seem able to keep that slick customer chained up no great time at a stretch. Sometimes I've knowed him to slip his collar as many as four nights a week."
"You mean he gets away?" asked Elmer, helping things along; for he began to see Mark casting eyes at him suspiciously.
"Always that. Bruno, he's a wanderer. He's got the habit bad; and as soon as he gets loose it's hike for him. But I will say he always knows when to come home, and in the morning we find him in his kennel, tuckered out mebbe, but happy."
"But do you mean he brings one of those old shoes home with him every time?" demanded Mark.
"He jest wont come home without something like that in his mouth," continued the gardener. "I've seen him adoin' of the same, and had to laugh at the critter. Once it was a lady's hat. We reckoned that it must a' blew off when she was goin' past in a car at a fast clip, and they couldn't find it. But Bruno lighted on it, easy like."
"A lady's hat!" muttered Mark, and then he faced his chum, adding: "Look here now, Elmer, you didn't come back to see Bruno just by accident. You had a reason for doing it? Own up now!"
Elmer nodded his head and snickered.
"Let me take that cap of yours, Mark," he said, and the article in question was eagerly handed over to him. "Look here, Phil, this cap was found under those peach trees you've heard about, and on the morning the colonel discovered they had been raided. Luckily my chum was able to prove that he couldn't have been here; and a lot of us knew that he had lost this cap a mile away on the bank of the Sunflower, just as evening set in. But it's been a dark mystery how it got here."
Phil had turned red at mention of the peach trees. Then his glance went past Elmer to the big Siberian wolf hound.
"I reckon it must be up to Bruno, then," he remarked. "Let's see – yes, he was off that night, else I'd never dared do what I did."
"And if you examine the inside of the cap," Elmer went on, steadily, "you'll find the lining all torn, as if he had been shaking it like he did that old shoe just now. The marks look to me like teeth had torn the lining. And when the colonel handed it to me, I could feel that it seemed to be more or less wet inside."
"Proven beyond the least doubt!" cried Mark, smiling broadly. "Bruno came on my cap while he was scouring the country. He fetched it home, as he does other things that have belonged to people. And when he was going past those peach trees he got scent of the fact that some one had been there during his absence. So perhaps he laid the cap down, to nose all around, and forgot to pick it up again!"
"That's just my theory to a dot," laughed Elmer; "so on the whole, I guess, Mark, you'd better call it solved, and let the matter drop."
"I'm only too willing," replied the other, nodding. "But don't you think we owe it to the colonel to take him into the secret?"
"I sure do," replied Elmer; "because he was puzzled as much as we were. Still, you remember he was ready to own up that he couldn't believe you guilty; no matter if a dozen caps bearing your initials were found under his trees."
"That shows what it means tuh have a good reputation," remarked Phil Lally between his set teeth. "But, boys, never again for me. I've seen what a fool road I was trampin' with that habit of mine, and I've changed my course. I'm goin' tuh make good this time, or bust a b'iler tryin'."
"You'll make it, never fear, Phil, with such a good friend to help you as the gentleman you work for. I believe in you," said Elmer, thrusting out his hand; for something told him that the young fellow needed all the encouragement possible at this critical stage in his uplifting.
So they did go in to see the colonel, who was deeply interested in the theory. Elmer had to explain how his chum's cap chanced to be found that morning under the raided trees, when it was lost the evening previous away over on the bank of the little Sunflower River.
"No doubt of it, Elmer," he declared immediately. "You've proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt. If Bruno had put his visiting card inside the lining he couldn't have done more when he made these tears with his sharp teeth. Seems to me as if I can see where every tooth went in. But let's forget all about that matter now, and talk about your magnificent victory of yesterday."
"We may have beaten the Fairfield team by the narrow margin of one run, sir," remarked Elmer, "but there was one fellow against us who did a heap more than that, I give it to you straight."
"Who was that, Elmer, and what did he do that was so great? I'm sure, after seeing the game I fail to catch your meaning," remarked the gentleman.
"It was Matt Tubbs, sir; and he won a victory over himself which I take it counts for more than just a single little tally in a baseball game. If that had been the same old Matt Tubbs of old, we'd never have finished that game, for he'd have ended it in a row. As it was, he shook hands with every Hickory Ridge player, and complimented them on the fierce fight they put up. It was just fine! And they used to say Matt Tubbs was a rowdy who could never be made to see how he was wronging his family, all Fairfield, and himself worst of all, by his ugly ways. Don't tell me, anybody, that this Boy Scout movement isn't working wonders in lots of cases."
"I believe you, Elmer," replied the colonel, softly. "I have been pretty much a gruff old soldier myself, and often scorned such an idea as gaining anything worth while without a fight for it; but I'm beginning to look at things in another light, boys, another light. Peace has its victories as well as war; and they count most in the long run, I reckon. I'm going to take more interest in these boys than ever I did before, because I'm learning something in my old age."
But the great victory over Fairfield was not the only event that marked the closing days of that summer vacation, and in another volume we shall have something to say about an occurrence which the Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts were inclined to set down in their troop log-book as a matter of history never to be forgotten.
