The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseball

  CHAPTER XXII

  DARK DAYS

  Sid was waiting for Tom outside the proctor's office.

  "Well?" he asked eagerly as his chum appeared, but it needed only a lookat the downcast face to tell that it was not "well" but "ill."

  "Rusticated!" exclaimed Tom.

  "For how long?"

  "Two weeks."

  "On your own account, or----"

  "Mainly because I wouldn't tell, I guess. Being out late just once isn'tso monstrous."

  "Of course not. Still you couldn't tell."

  "Certainly not. It's tough, though. Suspended twice in the first term! Iwonder what dad and the girls'll say."

  "Don't tell 'em."

  "Oh, I'll have to, but I guess they'll understand."

  "It certainly is rocky," admitted Sid, "but, do you know, I envy you abit. It's getting mighty hard in class now. I have to bone away like aTrojan. Pitchfork has it in for me on Latin. I wish I had a vacation."

  "Without baseball?" asked Tom.

  "N-o--no, of course not without being on the team. But two weeks aresoon over."

  "Not soon enough," and Tom darted away.

  "Where you going?"

  "Back and study. I can't afford to fall behind in my work."

  "My, but aren't you the grinder, though!" exclaimed Sid, but there wassomething of envy in his tone for all that. He went into recitation,while Tom continued on to their common room. He was walking along thepath that led past Booker Memorial Chapel and paused for a moment toadmire the effect of the early sun shining through a stained glasswindow. The combination of colors was perfect, and Tom, as he stood andlooked at a depiction of a biblical scene which represented the GoodSamaritan ministering to the stranger, felt somehow that it was a rolethat he himself had had a part in.

  Then came a revulsion of feeling.

  "Oh, pshaw! You're getting sentimental in your old age!" he exclaimedhalf aloud. "You've got to have your share of hard knocks in this world,and you've got to take what comes. But it's queer," he went on in hisself-communing, "how Langridge seems to be getting mixed up with me.This is twice I've had to suffer on his account. I'd like--yes, hang itall, what's the use of pretending to yourself--I'd like to take it outof him--in some way. It's not fair--that's what!"

  The thought of Langridge brought another sort of musing to Tom. He saw acertain fair face, with pouting lips and bright, dancing eyes, a faceframed in a fluffy mass of hair, and he fancied he could hear a littlelaugh, a mocking little laugh.

  "Worse and worse," growled Tom to himself. "You're getting dopy. Bettergo take a long walk."

  He kicked impatiently at a stone in the path and wheeled around just asa voice exclaimed:

  "Ah, Parsons, admiring the windows? The color effects are never sobeautiful as early morning and the evening. The garish light of dayseems to make them common. But--er--are you going to recitation? If so,I'll walk along with you," and genial Dr. Churchill, with a friendly nodof his head and a twinkle in his deep-set eyes, came closer to the lad.

  Tom wondered if the good doctor knew of the punishment that had justbeen meted out. If he did not he soon would have the report of theproctor for confirmation.

  "I've been suspended," blurted out Tom. "I was going to my room tostudy."

  "Suspended, Parsons! This is the second time, isn't it?" There wassurprise and dismay in the doctor's voice.

  "Yes, sir, but----" Tom paused. How much should he tell, how much leaveunsaid?

  "How did it happen?" asked the head of the college, and he placed hisarm on Tom's shoulder in a friendly fashion. Tom said afterward that itwas just as if he had been hypnotized. Before he knew it he was tellingthe whole story.

  "But I never mentioned the name of Langridge," he protested to Sid, towhom later he related all the events. "I never even hinted at it, butfor all that I believe Moses knew. He's a regular corkscrew."

  Dr. Churchill was silent after the recital, a recital rather brokenlymade, but containing all the essential facts.

  "Suspended for two weeks!" he murmured when Tom had finished.

  "With no athletics," added Tom. "Not even to see the games that are tobe played here, and there are to be two."

  "Hum," mused the doctor. "Well, you know we must have discipline here,Parsons. Without it we would soon have chaos. But--ah--er--hum! Well,come and see me this evening. I will have a talk with Mr. Zane. He hasto be strict, you know, very strict under certain circumstances,but--er--um--come and see me to-night."

  "What do you s'pose he wants?" asked Sid when Tom had told him of themeeting.

  "Blessed if I know, unless it's to give me a lecture on my conduct."

  "No, Moses isn't that kind."

  "He's going to restore to you all the rights and privileges of astudent," declared Phil Clinton, who, together with some others of Tom'schums, was in his room.

  "My uncle says----" began Ford Fenton, but instantly there was aprotesting howl.

  "Give me that water pitcher!" demanded Sid of Phil.

  "This isn't fit to drink," was the remonstrance.

  "I know it, but Fenton needs a bath, don't you, Ford? Your uncle! Say,the next time you say that we'll make you repeat the first book of Caesarbackward, eh, fellows?"

  "That's right," came in a chorus.

  "Well," went on Fenton in somewhat aggrieved tones, "he once toldme----"

  "Write it out," expostulated Phil.

  "Move he be given leave to print," came from Sid, who had once heard along debate in Congress.

  There was laughter and more chaffing of luckless Fenton, whose uncle,from his own making, was like unto a millstone hung about his neck.

  "Well, all the same, I'd like to know what Moses wants of you," saidPhil, and the others agreed with him.

  "I'll let you know when I come back," said Tom. "It's early; you can allstay here for a while."

  He returned in half an hour from his call on the head of the college.

  "Well?" demanded his chums of him.

  "Great!" he cried. "He received me in his study. Say, were you everthere? It's a fine place. Books, books, books all over. The floor waspiled full of them. There was a fire going on the grate and he wassitting there, reading some book with the queerest letters in it."

  "Sanskrit," ventured Phil.

  "I guess so. Well, he brought up a chair for me, and----"

  "Oh, for the love of Dionysius! give us some facts," cried Sid. "Whathappened?"

  "Well, he said he'd had a talk with the proctor and he removed the worstpart of my suspension. I can go to the two games here with Boxer Halland Fairview, but I can't play. I couldn't, anyhow, on account of myarm, so that's all right. And I can attend the special lectures inbiology, which I hated to miss. I can't recite for two weeks, but Idon't mind that. It's all right. I'll vote for Moses every time!"

  "I should say yes," agreed Phil. "He's white, he is. But Zane--ugh!He's----"

  "Treason," counseled Sid quietly. "The walls may not have ears, but thekeyhole has. Better cut it, fellows, the time is almost up, and Zane'sscouts will be sneaking around."

  The other lads departed, leaving Tom and Sid alone.

  "What about your pitching?" asked Sid.

  "Well, I'll have to give my arm a rest, Mr. Lighton says, so this comesin the nature of a special providence. It isn't so bad as it looked atfirst."

  But, in spite of his philosophy, there were dark days for Tom. It washard to be deprived of the chance to play on the scrub and he missed thedaily recitations. His arm, too, began to trouble him, and he wasobliged to go to a doctor for treatment, though the medical man said allit needed was a little massage and rest. Tom, in his eagerness to excel,had overworked the muscles.

  Meanwhile the 'varsity nine was kept busy at practice or with league andother games. Word came that both the Boxer and Fairview nines hadgreatly improved, chiefly by shifting their players about, and theRandall coach and captain wore serious looks as they "sized up" the workof the Randall team.

  There c
ame a contest with Fairview Institute on the Randall diamond. Itwas a "hot" game and Fairview won.

  There was anguish of heart among the Randall students and it was notassuaged when, the next week, Boxer, playing on the Randall grounds,took away a game with them, the score being 8 to 2.

  "Two drubbings in two successive weeks," exclaimed Kindlings. "What arewe going to do?"

  "One thing we've got to do is to improve in pitching," declared thecoach, and when some one brought word of this to Tom his heart, that hadbeen heavy during the two weeks of suspension, grew lighter.

  "Maybe I'll get a chance," he said to Sid. "It would make up foreverything if I did."

  "No one wants to see you in the box any more than I do, old chap," spokeSid fervently.