As Earl Gardner, straight, handsome, and clear-eyed, walked out to the plate with his bat in his hand, Brick McLane suddenly rose in front of the Fairhaven crowd, lifted both hands above his head, and made a signal. To the jerking of the lobsterman’s arms the islanders gave a cheer in concert that was surprisingly well done. “What’s that? What’s that?” grinned big Bob Singleton. “They must have worked that thing up coming over. Sounds a little like Fardale, Dick.”
“It sounds first-rate,” nodded Merriwell. “It’s the first time I’ve heard anything like a regular cheer since hitting this part of the country.”
Gardner knew the eyes of Grace Garrett were on him, and, instead of making him nervous, this knowledge filled him with determination to lead off with a hit.
On the score books the two teams were recorded as follows:
Fairhaven. Rockford.
Gardner, cf. Spangler, cf.
Bold, ss. Jenners, ss.
Bradley, 3d b. Swarton, 1st b.
Singleton, 1st b. Torrey, 3d b.
Buckhart, c. Morrisey, lf.
Merriwell, p. Stowe, 2d b.
Jolliby, lf. Randolf, rf
Tubbs, 2d b. Brodie, c.
Smart, rf. Kennedy, p.
Blackington had spoken the truth when he stated to Garrett that he intended to put the Jersey City battery, Brodie and Kennedy, against Fairhaven. Kennedy was in the box, with Brodie crouching behind the bat.
Brodie opened with a high inshoot, and a strike was called as Earl missed the ball cleanly.
Back of third base at least half a hundred Rockford youngsters had gathered, and they whooped in shrill derision as Gardner missed.
“He’ll never touch that pitcher!” shrieked one.
“Holes in his bat!” yelled another.
“He’s got a crooked eye!” came from a third.
“Never could hit!” declared a fourth.
Kennedy grinned derisively at Earl.
“Too speedy for yer, kid?” he inquired. “I’ll give yer an easy one.”
But Gardner refused to reach for the wide out which followed, and a ball was called.
The pitcher then tried a drop, which was pronounced a ball, and Kennedy quickly decided to force him to swing on the next one.
Earl fouled it.
With two strikes and two balls called, the Jersey City pitcher again attempted to deceive Gardner, and again failed.
“Three balls!” called the umpire.
“Make him put it over, Earl,” urged Dick. “If he does put it over give it a ride.”
Kennedy did put it over, using all the speed he could command, without a curve.
Gardner snapped his bat round quickly and met the ball full and fair, sending it whistling over the head of the second baseman and bringing the island crowd up with a shout. It was a clean hit for Fairhaven’s centre fielder.
“That’s the way to soak ’em, dern their picters!” squealed Obediah Tubbs, as he danced with elephantine grace down the coaching line back of first.
“This is a regular three-ring circus!” cried a Rockford man sneeringly. “There goes the clown! Say, fatty, do you know how a fool looks?”
“Yep!” promptly answered Obed, turning and facing the speaker. “I noticed you when I first came onto the ground. I’ll bring you a mirror so you can see for yourself.”
“Right from the shoulder!” laughed Brick McLane. “How do you like it, man?”
The Fairhaven crowd laughed heartily, and, with a very red face, the would-be funny Rockfordite subsided.
Owen Bold was the second batter, and he held his bat in a certain position in his left hand as he walked to the plate. Gardner observed the signal and knew Bold would bunt the first ball that Kennedy pitched, in case it was over the plate. Being thus warned, Earl was on his toes and had a fair start when the batter dropped the ball down about four feet in front of the plate.
Bold dashed for first, but Torrey maintained his reputation for handling bunts cleverly, and secured the ball in time to make a beautiful throw to Swarton.
“Out at first!” shouted the umpire.
“Good sacrifice, Owen!” piped Obediah Tubbs. “That’s the way to start her up!”
Bradley, the cockney lad from Fardale, was the next batter, and he held his bat straight up against his shoulder, gripping it with both hands, as he walked out. This told Gardner that Billy would try for a hit.
“Here’s your victim, Kennedy!” called Brodie. “He can’t touch you in a year.”
“’Ow do you know so much?” inquired Bradley. “Your wisdom is hawful surprising!”
Kennedy was roused and he used all his skill in fooling Bradley. Billy fouled the first two balls, both of which were declared strikes.
“You’re getting a pup-pup-pup-piece of it every time!” cried Jolliby. “Tut-tut-tut-take a good bite now!”
Fancying the batter was eager to hit, Kennedy tried to pull him on wide ones. Billy grinned at them and let them pass, with the result that three balls were swiftly called.
Brodie then signaled for a straight one.
As Billy swung to hit the next ball delivered the catcher swiftly touched the end of the bat and deflected it.
The ball plunked into Brodie’s mitt, Bradley having missed it cleanly.
“Did you see ’im, umpire?” shouted Billy excitedly. “’E ’it my bat! ’E bothered me!”
“Oh, go lay down!” sneered Brodie. “Don’t try that game! You’re out! Quit your squealing!”
In spite of Billy’s protest, the umpire persisted in declaring him out, having failed to observe Brodie’s action.
“Watch that catcher, Mr. Umpire,” urged Dick. “Don’t let him do any of that!”
“I will watch him,” promised the umpire.
Big Bob now stalked out to hit. As he took his position he glanced over his shoulder at Brodie.
“If you fool with my bat,” he said, in a very low tone, “I’ll land you a bunch of fives on the jaw!”
“Oh, you wouldn’t hurt anybody!” retorted Brodie sneeringly. “You’re nothing but a big baby! You can’t get a hit off Kennedy if you try.”
Singleton quickly convinced Brodie of his mistake by smashing the first ball along the ground so swiftly that Jenners was barely able to touch it with his fingers and deflect its course. Had Jenners failed to touch it at all Gardner would have scored. As it happened Stowe was able to get the ball in time to hold Earl at third, although big Bob reached first safely.
It was now Buckhart’s turn to hit, but he sat on the bench without seeming aware of it.
“Get your batter out!” sharply ordered the umpire. “No delays!”
Dick gave Brad a punch.
“Come on, Buckhart!” he exclaimed. “It’s your turn!”
The Texan rose slowly to his feet and walked toward the plate without picking up his bat. Those who saw him fancied he would secure the bat dropped by Bradley. This he did not do, but took his position to strike without a bat.
Quickly catching up Brad’s pet stick, Dick went out and handed it to him.
“Get your eyes open, Buckhart!” he said, in a low tone. “Wake up, old man!”
Brad seemed to give himself a shake. He struck at the first ball delivered, missing it by more than a foot. However, it seemed that this swing of his bothered Brodie a little, for Singleton stole second without trouble, the Rockford catcher declining to throw down to the bag.
The next ball pitched was too high, but Buckhart again struck at it.
“What’s the matter with him?” derisively cried the Rockford spectators.
Tom Fernald was watching everything closely, and a faint suggestion of a smile flitted over his face.
By the merest accident, it seemed, Buckhart hit the next ball a terrible crack and lined it far into the outfield. The hit seemed good for three bases at least, and it brought a shout of delight from the visiting islanders.
A moment later this shout turned to exclamations of surprise and dismay, for instead of running toward first, Buckhart turned in the wrong direction and ran toward third.
Gardner, who was trotting home and looking over his shoulder to see how far the ball went, did not observe the Texan until Brad collided with him.
Both were knocked down.
In astonishment Earl jumped up and seized Buckhart, dragging him to his feet.
“What’s got into you?” he cried. “What are you trying to do? Where are you going?”
Brad made no answer, but endeavored to pass Earl and continue toward third.
By this time Dick Merriwell had reached the spot, and he seized Brad by the arm, turning him around.
“The other way, you crazy loon!” he exclaimed. “First base is on the other side!”
Realizing his blunder at last, Brad started across the diamond toward first.
“Get into the base line!” cried Dick.
Buckhart did not seem to hear this, for he continued toward first, without attempting to follow the base line.
Spangler had secured the ball at last, and he threw it to Stowe, who promptly lined it over to Bill Swarton. By the time the ball reached Swarton’s hands, Buckhart was on first.
Swarton touched him with the ball and then called for the umpire to declare him out.
“Why, dern your picter!” cried Obediah Tubbs, “he’s on the base! He can’t be out!”
“He’s out according to the rule covering base running to first,” declared Swarton.
“What is that rule?” asked the umpire.
“It says a base runner is out if he runs more than three feet outside the line in the last half of the distance to first base, unless he does so to avoid a fielder attempting to field a batted ball,” declared Swarton.
“That’s correct!” nodded the umpire. “He was more than three feet outside the line! The man is out!”
At this some of the Fairhaven players raised a protest, but they were immediately silenced by Merriwell. “Swarton is right about the rule,” admitted Dick. “The decision is just.”
“Well, of all hard lul-lul-lul-luck that’s the worst!” groaned Chip Jolliby. “It was a cuc-cuc-cuc-cuc-clean base hit. What in bub-bub-blazes is the mum-mum-mum-matter with Buckhart? He must be cuc-cuc-crazy!”
Brad seemed at last to realize what he had done. He walked in toward the Fairhaven bench, shaking his head and looking disgusted. He was still very pale.
“Pard,” he said, in a low tone, as Dick hurried to him. “I sure am locoed. Things are a whole lot twisted. Never did such a fool thing before in my life. What do you suppose is the matter with me?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Dick; “but you cut us out of three runs, at least. If you can’t brace up and come out of this trance, we’re beaten at the very start.”
“I will brace up, pard—I will brace up!” savagely declared Brad. “Just watch me now!”