The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseball

  CHAPTER XVII

  AN EXPOSTULATION

  "Now we'll do 'em up!" cried Langridge, dancing about in a strangeenthusiasm as he crossed the home plate. "Knock a home run, Kerr, andwe'll roll up a score. Then I'll strike out the next six men."

  There were but two more innings to play, and the run Langridge broughtin had reduced the lead against the Randall freshmen from 6 to 5. Butfive runs are a big handicap, especially when you can't depend on yourpitcher. Kerr struck out and so did Sid, who was up next. Langridge wasdisappointed, though not discouraged, and he made wild promises aboutwhat he was going to do. But he did not fulfil them and got careless inhis pitching.

  The game degenerated almost into a farce in the last inning, whenDodville piled up four runs, making the total score 17 to 5, it beingthe worst drubbing the Randalls had received in many years. The onlyconsolation was that it was not the 'varsity team, but, as Kerr said,that was no excuse. There were almost jeers mingled with the cheers ofthe preparatory school lads, and it was a sore and sorrowful lot offreshmen who made their way to the special trolley cars, the stalled onehaving been brought up in the meanwhile.

  "Who's eating cloves?" asked Sid Henderson as he piled into the electricand threw his big mitt on the seat beside him.

  "Have some?" asked Langridge, holding out a quantity. "I had toothacheand I took a few."

  "No, thanks, don't use 'em," replied Sid with a quick look at thepitcher, whose eyes were unnaturally bright. "But if you have any gingerabout you, it might come in handy."

  "Ginger--how?"

  "For this team. We need it. To be beaten by a bunch of schoolboys!"

  "Well, we didn't have our regular team," explained Langridge. "Besides,I didn't have any support. I pitched well, but you fellows didn't backme up."

  There was an arrogant look on his face.

  "Yes, you pitched well, you did," exclaimed Kerr with an unconcealedsneer in his voice. "You did hot work, you did."

  "What about my three-bagger?"

  "That didn't make up for your rotten pitching!"

  The others looked at Kerr in surprise. It was something new for him tofind fault openly with Langridge. The latter felt it, too, and hardlyknew what to say.

  "Well, I--er--I----"

  "Yes, make some excuse," went on the catcher bitterly. "We got dumped,and that's all there is to it. I'm not saying I did such brilliantwork--none of us did--but you did rotten, Langridge, and you know it. Itisn't as if you couldn't do better, for we all know you can. You've gonestale--or--or something!"

  Tom had an idea what it was that had made the pitcher go "stale." Hisbrilliant hit and run had been followed by a reaction, the result of thestimulant he took. It is always thus.

  Langridge stared at Kerr, his most particular chum, and then, as if notunderstanding it, went off by himself in a corner of the car. It was nota jolly party that rode back to Randall College. Nor were matters muchbetter when they arrived. The freshmen had to endure the taunts ofthe sophomores concerning the trolley episode, as well as their ownunexpressed disappointment at the result of the game.

  "Sid," said Tom in their room that night, when his roommate was stretchedout on the old creaking sofa--"Sid, if you knew some member of--er--well,the crew who didn't train properly--that is to say, did sneaking thingson the sly--didn't keep in form for a race, what would you do?"

  "How's that? Is some member of the crew trying to throw the college?"cried Sid, suddenly sitting up.

  "No, no. Of course not. I'm just supposing a case. You know we have tosuppose cases in our psychology class. I'm just taking one for the sakeof argument."

  "Oh," replied Sid sleepily. "If it's only a supposititious case, allright. I thought you meant you knew of some chap who was doing a dirtytrick."

  "Well, suppose I did know of one--or you did--what would you do? Wouldyou tell the coach or the captain?"

  "What good would it do?"

  "That's not the point. Would you?"

  "Well, you must have a reason for telling. Don't you learn that inpsychology?"

  "Of course. Well, my reason might be that I wanted to see the crew dogood work and not lose on account of some fellow who couldn't last out arace because he broke training rules on the sly. Or it might be that Iwanted to see the fellow himself take a brace."

  "Both good reasons, son. Both good. As the Romans say, _Mens sana incorpore sano_. You would do it for his own physical good. Very nice. Forhis mental improvement also."

  "I'm serious," declared Tom.

  "So am I, you conscientious old wind-ammer! I know it. The trouble isyou're too serious. Why don't you let things slide sometimes?"

  "I can't."

  "No, I s'pose not. Well, then, fire away, old chap. Wait until I getmore comfortable, though," and Sid turned and wiggled on the decrepitsofa until it threatened to collapse.

  "You haven't answered my question yet," persisted Tom when his chum hadbeen silent for two minutes.

  "What question? Oh, blazes, Tom, I thought you'd gone to sleep. But say,why don't you come right out and say what you mean? Do you know anymember of the crew who's doing that?"

  "No, I don't. I told you this was a supposititious case. But, if therewas one, what would you do?"

  "Well, I'll give you a supposititious answer."

  Sid closed his eyes. The fussy little alarm clock seemed to be countingtime for him while he made up his mind.

  "Why don't you tell the fellow yourself?" asked Sid so suddenly that Tomjumped.

  "Would you?" he asked.

  Sid arose. He came and stood close to his chum. Then he spoke.

  "There be certain things, son," he said with an assumed serious airwhich was more than half real, "certain things that, in college, onemight better ignore. If, perchance, however, one is so constitutedmorally that one can't; if the laws of the Medes and the Persians are soimmutable that one can't rest--why, my young philosopher, take theeasiest course so long as you are true to your own motto, _Dulce etdecorum est pro alma mater mori_. There, I don't know whether I'vegot the Latin right, but it says what I mean--tell the other fellowfirst--Tom," and with that he went over, picked up his trigonometry andfell to studying.

  It was not an easy fight that Tom had with himself that night. He wentall over the ground: the arrogance of Langridge, the scene in thedressing-room, the pungent odor of liquor and then his knowledge of it.Was it fair to the team to let the members be in ignorance of the factthat their pitcher took stimulants secretly--that he had done it before?For Tom was sure it was not the first time. Would it not mean, in theend, that Randall would lose some deciding game and the championship?Tom thought so and determined that it was his duty to do something. Thequestion was, what? In a measure Sid had solved this for him, and beforehe fell asleep that night Tom determined to expostulate with Langridgethe first chance he got.

  It came sooner than he expected. There was a game with Boxer Hall on thegrounds of the latter university and it was expected to be a hard one,which expectation was not unfulfilled.

  For the first few innings Randall seemed to have the contest well inhand. Then, during a few minutes when his side was at bat, Langridgedisappeared into the dressing-room. With a heart that beat harder thanusual Tom quietly followed. He was just in time to see Langridge puttingaway a bottle that gave out the characteristic odor.

  "Don't do that!" cried Tom quickly, but in a low voice. He was hardlyconscious of what he was saying.

  Langridge wheeled around and faced him.

  "Don't do what?" he asked sharply, his face flushed.

  "Take that liquor to brace you up. You'll only pitch the worse for it,and it's not fair to the team."

  Langridge took a step toward Tom.

  "What right have you got to speak so to me?" he demanded. "You're adirty sneak, that's what you are, following in here to spy on me! Iguess I know what I'm doing. Can't I take a little toothache medicinewithout being insulted by you? Liquor! Supposing it is? The doctorordered it for me."

  "Not in th
e middle of a game," said Tom quietly. "Besides, it's againsttraining rules, and you know it. It's not fair."

  "Oh, I see your game," sneered Langridge. "I know what you're after.You want to tell some story about me, thinking that I'll be dropped andyou can have my place. But you can't. I'll do you yet. I'll show 'em howI can pitch!" He was boasting now, for he was not himself. "Get out ofmy way, you dirty sneak!" he cried. "I'm going to bat out a home run,"and he put some cloves in his mouth.

  He almost knocked Tom over as he rushed past him and went out in time totake his place at the home plate. He did knock a home run to thedelirious delight of the team, but it was short-lived joy, for, just asin the other games, Langridge went to pieces in the box, and Boxer Hallwon the game by a score of 8 to 5. But the home run of Langridge soshone out that even Kerr did not have the heart to decry his friend'sragged pitching. Coach Lighton, however, shook his head, as thechampionship chances for Randall College seemed fading away.

  "Well," thought Tom as he accompanied the defeated team back thatafternoon, "I did my duty, anyhow. I expostulated with him and wasinsulted for my pains. I did all I could."

  But that night there came to him something like a voice asking, "Didyou?" Tom tossed restlessly on his bed. "What shall I do next?" hethought.