Proud as a king, and happy as a king rarely is, Wally sat on the players' bench and stared at the throngs pouring in through the entrances and flooding the seats. On the fence over by the woods, like sparrows crowded close on a telegraph wire, was strung a line of twittering and jostling youngsters, let in by a wise manager who preferred to have them safely quiet inside rather than uproariously disorderly without. And every one of the shrill flock sooner or later fastened his eyes on Wally and demanded the reason for their comrade's elevation to the company of the gods.
Such a question must, of course, be answered. Whether the answer is correct or not is of minor consequence. Some said Wally was a mascot; others that Poole was sweet on his sister; while still others were able to give melodramatic accounts of Wally's rescue of the captain from the[Pg 277] desperate gang of upper middlers who had "pinched" him. While the argument on these points was going forward, the advance scouts of the fence brigade discovered signs of the arrival of the nines, and Skinny Flick, waving his tattered cap, led a high-pitched imitation of the long Seaton cheer, weirdly shrill and yet true and even and united.
"How can those little boys do it so well?" asked Margaret Sedgwick, amused at the unexpected prelude.
"Practised it, I suppose," replied Mr. Sedgwick, indifferently.
And Wally not being on hand to set forth the true relations of things, Miss Margaret accepted her father's explanation, and gave the soprano cheerers full credit for patriotic forethought. As a matter of fact their facility had been as unconsciously acquired as the street ragtime which a dignified adult is shocked to find himself whistling. The Seaton urchin begins to hear the school cheers as soon as his legs are strong enough to take him where students gather or heroes battle. Classes pass before him as the generations of men[Pg 278] before the aged Nestor. There were boys on that fence who could already have repeated the Seaton battle cries when fellows who were now leaders of elevens and nines in Yale and Harvard and Princeton and Dartmouth had just set foot in the Seaton streets. The gamin's term of instruction is long; so the cheer from the fence had the true ring.
It was likewise well timed. A minute later the four cheer-leaders on the Seaton side were swinging their arms and swaying their bodies in a convulsion of energy, as they led in the first great welcome to their team; while at the heels of the Seaton players came the Hillbury nine, waking into enthusiasm the whole solid phalanx of blue. And here unquestionably was the first evil omen for Seaton hopes. Every Hillbury student produced a megaphone and turned it toward the Seaton side; the volume of Hillbury's cheer was multiplied by three. What a handicap! What a depressing evidence of Hillbury superiority!
But something more than noise was necessary to depress Wally; his optimism was not to be extinguished by megaphones. The Seaton players went out for their preliminary practice. Lyford[Pg 279] batted to the outfield, Borland to the in-; Rob stood at the plate, caught the returns, and joined in the cross-diamond throwing. Lyford was directing the practice, but even Wally could see how the infield followed the catcher's leading and instinctively looked for his suggestion. Nor was this remarkable. The players were feeling the strain of the situation. Sudbury had just missed an easy fly that he ought to have held; Hayes had made a bad mess of a grounder; Durand had sent a ball to first that had defied Ames's long reach. Nervousness was in the air, but Owen stood smiling and steady, taking the balls with an easy grace that had in it no sign of ostentation, throwing straight and swift, cheering into confidence by his very presence and attitude. "We've got an awfully good catcher, anyway," thought Wally, proudly, as he squirmed on the seat and tried at the same time to watch all the Seaton fielders, and the Hillbury players tossing the ball to and fro near their bench, and the two captains talking with the umpire.
Presently Hillbury took the field and Wally now had a harder task, for there were the Hillbury[Pg 280] men to be observed and compared with their predecessors, while Patterson was warming up with Owen over by the backstop, and must have sympathetic attention. Rob had borrowed Ames's mitt to use as a plate, and over this Patterson was pitching, unsteady at first with the tension of the strange conditions, but soon settling down under Owen's soothing guidance. When Rob found that his pitcher had himself sufficiently in hand to be able to place the ball pretty accurately over one side of the mitt or the other, he called to him to stop.
"You're all right, Pat!" he declared, dropping his arm on his companion's shoulder as they walked back to join their mates on the bench. "It's all there; you'll pitch your best game to-day. Don't hurry now, and don't worry; and don't forget to back up first whenever you can get over there."
Patterson nodded; there was nothing for him to say. He was content to leave the results in Owen's hands.
"We go out!" announced Poole, coming up with a smile on his face. "All ready, Pat?"
Patterson gave a sign of assent. "Yes, he's[Pg 281] ready," said Owen. "Here's your mitt, Ames. This is one of the days when we can cut it every time."
The Hillbury players came in, the Seatonians scattered to their positions. The supporters cheered for their school and their captain; then for the captain of the other team. 'Tis a fine custom of the Seaton-Hillbury rivalry which the colleges might well imitate. The Hillbury megaphones bellowed a response. The umpire threw down a new white ball which Patterson coolly scrubbed in the dirt outside the box, while Michael, the head of the Hillbury batting list, took his place by the plate. The game was on!
Owen crouched and signalled with his fingers between his knees. Patterson answered with an out that threatened to strike Michael on the shoulder, but swung in over the inside of the plate. The batsman stepped back and the umpire called a strike. The next one was high and wide and out of reach; Michael did not bite. One ball! For the third effort Patterson stepped to the left and threw a swift one that cut the inside corner of the plate at an angle—or would have cut it,[Pg 282] if it had been allowed to take its course. Michael struck at it and knocked it into Patterson's hands. Long Ames had the ball before Michael was halfway down the line.
Hood, the Hillbury shortstop, who had been standing by, swinging two bats like a professional, now strode up, thumped the ground with his chosen stick, and looked valiantly at the pitcher. The first ball, a drop, he struck at and fouled. The second he misjudged and let go by. "Strike Two!" The third and fourth were tempters which he resisted. Then came one which he fancied. With sudden impulse he struck hard at it, but even as he struck, the ball slammed in Owen's trusty mitt.
A strike out! Two men gone! The Seaton cheer-leaders were busy again, and with contorted faces and fierce arm swings goaded on their company of howlers. Hillbury answered with a blast of megaphones, as Coy, their centre fielder, appeared at the plate. The first ball pitched appealed to him; he struck at it and sent a low bounder toward third. For just an instant Durand juggled it and then threw straight to Ames,[Pg 283] but Coy was fast and the umpire called him safe.
Kleindienst, the Hillbury captain, came up, eager to make a hit that would help the runner round the bases. Thanks to Poole's note-book, and information gathered from many sources, Owen knew what to call for. The first pitch was a swift breast-high ball off the inner corner of the plate; Kleindienst smote and smote in vain. "Now Coy will steal," thought Rob, and signalled for an out. Coy did steal and Kleindienst tried to hit at the same time, but all he succeeded in accomplishing was to catch the ball on the end of his bat and drive it in easy bounds to Ames, making the third out.
"You've got to get a hit, Mac," said Poole, as McPherson picked up his bat. "Don't bite at the teasers. Make 'em put 'em over!"
Now McPherson meant to do that very thing, but the first one was so plausible that even though it wasn't just what he wanted, McPherson could not resist the temptation to try it. The result was a pop foul that Kleindienst gathered in off third base.
[Pg 284]
Poole was second on the list, and Poole waited; one ball! two balls! a foul! three balls! two strikes! At the next Poole dropped his bat and started for first, and the umpire did not say him nay.
And now it was Owen's turn to face O'Brien, and he tried to sacrifice, but the bunt rolled over the line, and his attempt came to naught. O'Brien was careful now, and gave him high balls that he could not bunt, and kept them well out of his reach. Two had been called balls and one a strike, when Rob's chance came. The ball was a trifle too far in, but he drew back a little as he struck, and drove a liner over second baseman's head out into the ground between centre and right. Poole went to third, and Rob was safe at second.
It was Rorbach's turn. He knew what he was expected to do without the spur implied in the sudden roar of greeting from the benches, followed by tense, expectant silence. O'Brien sought to work him with seductive outs, but Rorbach waited. Three balls and one strike brought the pitcher to reason; he couldn't afford to pass a[Pg 285] man with two on bases. So Rorbach got one where he could hit it, and lifted the ball in a splendid long arch far out into right field. The cheer-leaders caught their breath and, forgetful of their duties, silently watched it fly. Was it a home run? It would have been if some one else than Furness had guarded the Hillbury right field. Furness started almost as soon as the ball, and racing backward toward the fence, turned as the ball was just going over his head and pulled it down. Rorbach was out, but Poole came home easily on the throw-in, and Owen wisely paused at third.
Long Ames now appeared at the plate, brandishing his bat in the clumsy fashion which had aroused so much merriment along the benches in that first game of the season. No one made merry over it to-day. The anxious Hillburyites thought only of the possibility of another hit, while the Seatonians' hopes now hung on the derided man's bat. And Ames, who cared nothing whether they derided or not, fixed his eyes on the pitcher and waited. One he let go by without offering at it; the second he fouled; the next proved a second ball, the fourth another strike. Still he waited,[Pg 286] clutching his bat a hand's-breadth from the end, with his lank figure bent awkwardly forward toward the plate. The fifth pitch was to his liking; with a short, quick stroke he chopped the ball in a safe little liner over third baseman's head, and galloped away to first, while Owen gleefully trotted home. Then Durand went out on an infield hit, and the first inning was over.
Such luck, of course, could not last, but the exhilaration engendered by these two runs carried the Seaton players safely through several innings. The second, with the tail-end of the list ............