CHAPTER XXX
A GREAT GAME
Sid Henderson fairly burst into the room where Tom Parsons was studying.The first baseman strode over to the window, looked out as though he wasglaring at some attacking force and then throwing himself into a chair,exclaimed:
"It's rotten, that's what it is!"
"What?" asked Tom, looking up from his book. "Has Pitchfork been at youagain about the Latin?"
"No, this is worse. I don't see how we're going to win the gameto-morrow. And if we lose!"
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Tom, for he had seldom seen his chum soexcited.
"Matter enough. Langridge is pitching fierce ball. We just had somelight work and arranged a code of signals for him and Kerr. Why, you'dthink our pitcher didn't have to practice! He seemed to think that allhe had to do was to stand up in front of the Boxer players and they'dstrike out just to please him. It makes me sick! But that's not theworst of it."
"Well, what is?" asked Tom, smiling at Sid's vehemence. "Might as wellget it out of your system and you'll feel better."
"Oh, you know what it is as well as I do," went on Sid. "There's no usetrying to ignore it any longer. I've tried to fight shy of it and sohave some of the other fellows, but what's the use? It's enough to makea fellow disgusted so he'll never play on the nine again."
"You mean----" began Tom.
"I mean that Langridge isn't playing fair. He doesn't train. He's beendrinking and smoking on the sly and staying up nights gambling. There'sno use mincing words now. I caught him drinking in his dressing-roomto-day, and he was in a blue funk for fear I'd tell. Said he had a weakheart and the doctor had told him to take it. Weak heart! Rats! Hedrinks because he likes it. I tell you if we don't look out, we'll bethe laughing stock of the Tonoka Lake League. Langridge can put himselfon edge with a drink of that vile stuff and do good work for one or twoinnings, maybe. Then he'll go all to pieces and where will we be? Iknow. We'll be tailenders, and it will be his fault. It's a shame! Someone ought to tell Lighton."
"Why don't you?" asked Tom quietly.
"Oh, you know I can't. No one could go peach like that."
"I know. I asked you about it once when I discovered what ailedLangridge. You remember what you said?"
"Yes, and I almost wish I'd told you to go and tell. The team would bebetter off now, even if it was against tradition and ethics and all thatrot. It makes me sick! Here we are to go up against a hard propositionto-morrow and every other fellow on the team is as fit as a fiddleexcept Langridge. He seems to think it's a joke."
"What do the other fellows say?"
"Well, they don't know as much about him as you and I do. But they aregrumbling because Langridge doesn't put enough ginger into his work."
"What about Mr. Lighton?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think he suspects and then again I'm notsure. If he really knew what Langridge was doing, I don't believe he'dlet him pitch. But you know Langridge has plenty of money and he hasn'tany one like a father or mother to keep tabs on him, so he does as hepleases. He's practically supported the team this year, for we haven'tmade much money. I suppose that's why Kindlings stands for him as hedoes. Maybe that's why Mr. Lighton doesn't send him to the bench.Langridge's money will do a great deal."
"Oh, I shouldn't like to think that because of it he is kept on theteam when there's a chance of our losing the pennant."
"Neither would I. Maybe I'm wrong about the coach, but what's the use ofsaying anything? Langridge will pitch for us against Boxer Hall,and--no, I'll not say what I was going to. I believe if we lose thatgame there'll be such a howl that he won't dare pitch against Fairview.That will give you a chance, Tom, for the last game of the season."
"What about Evert?"
"Oh, he's practically out of it. He hasn't had any practice to speak ofand wouldn't last two minutes. You're in good trim. You did some greatwork on the scrub yesterday."
"Yes, but it's not likely to amount to anything. However, I'm goingalong and root for you to-morrow."
"Yes, we'll need all the support we can get. I declare I'm as nervous asa girl, and I've got to buckle down and prepare for a Latin exam, too."
"Can't you let it go?"
"No, it's too risky. I'm only on the team now by the epidermis of mymolars, as the poet says. If I flunk in Latin it will mean that I can'tplay against Fairview."
"Then don't flunk, for the team needs you."
"It needs more than me, but I'm going to try and forget it now and boneaway."
Tom hoped to have the pleasure of taking Miss Tyler to the game withBoxer Hall, which was to take place on the grounds of that institution,but the girl sent back a regretful little note, saying she had arrangedto go with Langridge or, at least, he was to bring her home.
"Hang it!" exclaimed Tom. "I thought she was done with him."
And, somehow, there was a rather bitter feeling in his heart as heprepared to accompany the other fellows to the great game that Saturdayafternoon. He almost made up his mind that he would not bother to speakto Miss Tyler again and then he thought such a course would be silly andhe tried to be more philosophical about it, though it was difficult.
Never had there been such a crowd out to witness a game on the Boxerdiamond. The grandstand was packed long before the teams trotted out forpractice and the bleachers were overflowing. A fringe of spectatorspacked the side lines, and what with the yelling and cheering of therival factions, the waving of the colors, the tooting of the auto hornsin the throng of machines that had brought parties to the contest,there was an air of excitement that might have excused even moreveteran players from getting nervous, for the game meant much to bothcolleges. If Boxer won, it would have a chance to play Fairview for thechampionship, but if Randall won the privilege would fall to thatcollege. And that both teams had determined to win goes without saying.
Almost at the last minute Coach Lighton had told Tom to get ready to goas a substitute, and it was in his field uniform then instead of hisordinary clothes that Tom went to the game. But he had slender hopes ofpitching, for Langridge seemed in unusually fine form and that morningat Randall had done some good work. But the orders of the coach couldnot be disobeyed. So Tom took his place on the bench with the otherRandall lads, and, after some practice on the field, his eyes roved overthe grandstand in search of a certain face. He fancied he saw where MissTyler sat, but he could not be sure.
"Langridge will probably go home with her," thought Tom. "He didn'tbring her here, for he came in with us."
He had little more time for thought, however, as the umpire was gettingthe new ball from the foil cover and was about to call the game.
Boxer had won the toss and elected to bat last, so it was the turn ofthe visitors to get up first and show what they could do. Langridgewas greeted with a cheer from a crowd in the Randall section of thegrandstand as he went to the bat. He was popular with the large mass ofstudents in spite of his ways. He seemed in good form and there was aconfident air about him as he swung his willow stock to and fro.
"Play ball!" called the umpire.
Dave Ogden, with a calculating glance at the batsman, tied himself intorather a complicated knot and threw the horsehide. It was right over theplate and Langridge struck viciously at it, but made a clean miss. Therewas a groan from the Randall supporters and the team looked glum.Langridge, however, was not disconcerted. He was as confident as ever.Once more the ball was hurled toward him. He stepped right up to it, forhe knew a pitcher's tricks and there was a resonant crack that made thehearts of his chums leap. He had lined out a "beaut."
"Go on! go on! go on!" yelled Coach Lighton. "Leg it, Langridge, legit!"
Langridge was running low and well. The Boxer right fielder had muffedthe ball, but made a quick recovery and threw to first. It seemed thatLangridge was safe, but the umpire, who had run down toward the bag,called him out.
A groan went up from the Randall sympathizers and the team joined in.
"That'll do!" cried Captain Woodh
ouse sharply to his men. "Don't disputeany decisions. Leave that to me. We'll accept it. You're up, Kerr."
Kerr was a notoriously good hitter and Ogden gave him his walkingpapers. Sid Henderson was next at the bat and he knocked a little popfly, which the second baseman neatly caught, and Sid, shaking his headover his hard luck, went to the bench.
Captain Woodhouse himself was next to try, and there was a grim look onhis face as he went into the box. It was justified, for he made a safehit and went to second on a swift grounder that Dutch Housenlagerknocked, the ball rolling between the shortstop's fingers. The Randallswould have scored if Bricktop Molloy had hit harder or higher, but theshortstop made as pretty a catch as was seen on the grounds that day,leaping high for the ball, and with Bricktop out it was all over, and agoose egg went up on the scoreboard as the result of the first half ofthe initial inning.
"Now, Langridge, don't let them get any hits off you," implored Kindlingsas he and his men went to the field.
"Of course not," promised the pitcher easily.
His first ball was wild and there was an anxious feeling in the heartsof his chums. But he steadied almost at once and his next two deliverieswere called strikes.
"Here's where you fan!" he called to Pinky Davenport, who was up.
"Do I? Watch me," replied Pinky, but he only hit the wind.
"That's the way to do it!" called a shrill voice from the grandstand."Fine, Langridge!"
"All right, don't tell us what your uncle said," retorted the pitcher."Keep that back, Fenton," for it was the boy with the ever-presentrelative who had yelled, and there was laughter at the pitcher's jibe.
Langridge had never done better work than in that first inning when,after passing the hardest hitter of the Boxers to first purposely, inorder to make sure of one of their weakest stick-wielders, the Randalltwirler struck him neatly out, and the rivals of Randall were rewardedwith a neat little white circle.
In the next inning Jerry Jackson was first up and he ingloriouslyfanned, but Phil Clinton earned fame for himself in the annals of his_alma mater_ by bringing in a home run--the only one of the game.Langridge kept up his phenomenal work and another pale zero went up forBoxer, while Randall had a single mark that loomed big before the eyesof the cheering throng.
But the hopes of those who wanted to see Randall win suffered a severesetback, for in the next two innings they could not score, while in eachframe for the Boxers there were two runs chalked.
"Four to one," remarked Tom to Phil Clinton. "They're crawling up. Iwonder if we have any show?"
"The game is young yet," answered Phil. "I think we will do them."
Randall got one run in the fifth and Langridge was the lucky player whobrought it in. He showed his elation.
"Oh, we've got 'em on the run!" he cried, and then he went into thedressing-room. There was a queer look on Tom's face as his eyes soughtthose of Sid, and the latter shook his head. Coach Lighton, too, seemedanxious. He watched for the reappearance of Langridge, but his attentionwas occupied for a moment when Woodhouse knocked a neat fly. The captainwas steaming away for first, but the ball was also on its way there andboth arrived about the same time.
"Out!" cried the umpire, and a dispute at once arose. The Randalls hadto give in, though it was manifestly unfair. When Langridge came out ofthe dressing-room there was a noticeable change in his manner. Hisbreath smelled of cloves, and Sid, who noticed it, made a despairinggesture. A little later Housenlager hit the breeze strongly and wentout, the score at the ending of the fifth inning being 4 to 2 in favorof the Boxer team.
"Now, Langridge," said the coach earnestly, "it depends on you. If youcan hold them down, we are pretty sure of winning, even if we have to goten innings, for some of our batters have Ogden's measure."
"I'll do it!" cried Langridge. "You watch me!"
But he failed miserably. He did manage to strike out two men, for therewas snap and vicious vim in the way he delivered the balls, but suddenly,when the influence of the stimulant he had taken wore off, he went topieces and the Boxers piled in five runs before they were stopped by aremarkable brace in the Randall fielding contingent.
There was a steely look in the eyes of Coach Lighton as the Randallscame in for their turn to bat in the sixth inning.
"I'll do better next time," promised Langridge, but he spoke ratherlanguidly.
"No, you'll not!" exclaimed the coach.
"Why not?" and the pitcher seemed suddenly awakened.
"Because you're not going to pitch next inning!"
"I'm not?"
"No, you're not."
"I guess I'm manager of this team."
"And I'm the coach. I say you shan't pitch any more in this game, or, ifyou do, I'll resign here and now. Captain Woodhouse, are you with me inthis?"
"Oh, well, can't you take a rest for a couple of innings, Fred, andpitch the last one?" asked the captain, adding: "if the Boxers willallow us to suspend the rules for you."
"If I pitch at all, I'll pitch the whole game!" cried Langridgefiercely.
"If you do I resign," was the decision of Mr. Lighton.
"Well, it's up to you," said Woodhouse with a shrug of his shoulders, asif ridding himself of the burden. "Whatever you say goes."
"All right, then I say Langridge goes to the bench. He's not fit topitch and he knows it."
"What's the matter with me?" demanded the youth haughtily.
"Do you want me to tell?" asked Mr. Lighton quickly, with a sharp look.
Langridge, without a word, walked into the dressing-rooms.
"Parsons will pitch the remainder of the game," went on the coach to theRandall players and he made the necessary announcement to the gameofficials. "Tom," he called, "come on; you're up in place of Langridge."
Tom Parsons' heart gave a great throb. At last he had the chance forwhich he had waited so long. He was to pitch in a big game!
Tom was a good batter. He was also acquainted with many pitchers'tricks, for Mr. Lighton had given him good instruction. Tom was readyfor whatever came. The first ball Ogden delivered was an incurve. Tominstinctively stepped back to avoid it, but it went neatly over theplate and a strike was called on him. He shut his teeth hard. Hereasoned that Ogden would expect him to be on the lookout the secondtime for an outcurve, for it might naturally be supposed that thepitcher would vary his delivery.
"But he thinks I'm looking for an out," thought Tom. "Therefore he'llgive me another in. I'll be ready for it."
He was. He stepped right into the next ball, which was an incurve, andwith a mighty sweep sent it sailing far over the right fielder's head.It was good for three bases and Tom took them.
"Go on! Keep running! That's a beaut! Take another! Make it a homer!"yelled the crowd, which was on its feet shouting like mad, waving hats,hands, handkerchiefs and college colors.
"Stay there!" cautioned Coach Lighton, for the ball was being relayedhome.
Tom's sensational hit seemed to put new life into the team and BricktopMolloy also brought in a run. That, however, ended the good work.
Then came Tom's turn in the box. That he was a little nervous wasnatural, but he kept control of himself and only allowed one hit, thoughit was good eventually for a run. There was a noticeable stiffening inthe work of the team and the coach congratulated Tom as he came in withhis chums to take their turn at the bat again.
The seventh inning saw four runs safely laid away for Randall, whilethe marker put up a neat little ring in the square for Boxer, for Tomstruck out two of the three men who were up, one going out on a pop fly,the pitcher having misjudged his batter. Neither side scored in theeighth, and when Randall got three runs in the ninth, and, in spite ofstrenuous work on the part of Tom, the Boxers got one run that sameinning, the score was tied--11 to 11.
"Ten innings! They've got to play ten innings!" went the cry around thefield. Then came more cheers. It was a game of games and it began tolook as if the hoodoo against Randall was broken and that the collegehad a chance for the pennan
t.
"Three cheers for Tom Parsons!" yelled Ford Fenton, and what a shoutthere was!
"What would your uncle think of him?" asked a student.
"He'd say he was all right!" rejoined Ford good-naturedly.
Randall got one run in the tenth, putting them ahead, and then came asupreme struggle for Tom. Coolly and calculatingly he delivered theballs. He struck out the first man, who viciously threw down his bat sohard that it splintered. The second man also went the same way, andthere was a salvo of cheers that shook the stands, while the stampingof feet of the anxious ones threatened to bring down the structures.
Tom measured his next man and sent in a neat little drop. But the batterwas a veteran and got under it in time. He sent it well out into thefield.
"Take it, Jerry! Take it!" cried the coach, for the horsehide seemedabout to fall into the right fielder's hands. But he muffed it, and whata howl there was! George Stoddard, who had knocked it, kept on tosecond, for which he had to slide, but he was called safe. Then Tom wasobliged to pass the next man to first, for he was an excellent hitter,while the one who followed him was not. But just then one of those"accidents" that are always cropping up in sport happened and the poorhitter made good, knocking a curious little twisting fly that the firstbaseman misjudged, and the run came in, again tieing the score. But nomore Boxer players crossed home plate.
It was with a "do or die" expression on all the faces of the Randallsthat they came to bat in the eleventh inning. The story of that game iscollege history now, and how Tom brought in a run after a magnificenthit that would have been a "homer" but for the fleetness of the opposingcenter fielder's feet is told to many a freshman. They could do no more,though, after getting one ahead.
It needed but a single run on the part of the Boxers to tie the scoreand two to win. But Tom resolved that they should not get even that onetally. He went to his box, his teeth clenched, making his jaw look firmand square. He resolved to try a new sort of twisting curve that hehad used several times against the 'varsity. Each time it had proveddeceptive. He worked it on the first man and sent him ingloriously tothe bench. Then the second batter fell for it, but Tom dared not try iton the third. He felt himself getting nervous, and his next delivery wasa bit wild. A ball was called on him, but that was all. The next threedeliveries were strikes, and the batter, though he fanned desperately atthem, missed each time.
THE BATTER MISSED EACH TIME]
"That settles it!" cried Phil Clinton as Tom, with a wildly throbbingheart, walked out of the box, while a hush fell over the assemblage, forthe crowd could hardly realize that the game was over and that Randallhad won by a score of 13 to 12.
"Good work, Parsons! Oh, pretty work!" yelled a host of supporters, andthen such cheering as there was!
"Come, fellows, a cheer for Boxer Hall!" cried Captain Woodhouse, and itwas given, followed by the college yell.
Boxer generously retaliated, and as the teams ran for the dressing-roomsLangridge, pale and with trembling hands, stepped out. He was dressedin his street garments, and without a word to his chums, he startedacross the diamond for the grandstand.
"He's going over to her," thought Tom, and the joy of the victory he hadhelped to win was embittered for him.
"Parsons, you did splendidly!" cried Mr. Lighton. "I congratulate youwith all my heart. If it hadn't been for you, we'd have lost the game."
"Oh, I don't know about that."
"Yes, we would. You're the regular pitcher on this team for the remainderof the season, subject, of course, to the confirmation of CaptainWoodhouse."
"Whatever you say," assented Kindlings, but he looked a bit uncomfortable.
"There are only two more games," went on the coach, "one out of townnext Saturday, and then comes the final struggle with Fairview. If wewin that, we'll have the pennant."
"Oh, we'll win!" cried Holly Cross. "Look who's going to pitch for us."
"I don't know about that," replied Tom with a laugh, but he was silencedwith cheers.
"Well, I want you to win that game," concluded the coach as he walkedoff the diamond and the team got ready to go back to Randall.