CHAPTER XX
STOLEN PROPERTY
Erskine met with defeat that afternoon.
Arrowden did pretty much as she pleased; base-hits were as plentifulas errors; the former were to the credit of the visitors, the latterwere the property of the home team. When it was over, and the audiencehad clambered soberly down from the stands to shake their headsdisappointedly over the showing of the Purple as they tramped throughthe golden evening back to the town and the college, Patterson, themanager, slipped his pencil back into his pocket and softly closed thescore-book to shut from sight the obnoxious figures, 15--3. It had beena veritable Waterloo.
In the locker-house little was said. Every one realized that theteam had taken a slump. Hanson stood aside, and "Baldy" Simsonbecame the man of the hour. His was the task of getting the men backinto condition, a task requiring patience and vigilance and all theknowledge that many years of experience had brought him. This wasno time for fault-finding; on the contrary, Hanson was silent, and"Baldy's" tone was cheerful and soothing.
The news of Erskine's trouncing brought delight to the hearts of theRobinson players and coaches. Down there at Collegetown they had beenhaving troubles of their own of late. The brown-stockinged team wasinferior to its last year's predecessor, and its coaches believed thatif Erskine came to Collegetown in two weeks with a nine equal to thatof the previous season she would win the dual championship. So it wasthat Erskine's defeat by Arrowden brought encouragement to Robinson;for Robinson had met Arrowden ten days before and had shut her out tothe tune of 5 to 0. What pleased Robinson worried Erskine. The collegeat large, with last year's overthrow in memory, scented defeat. Hansonwrote four telegrams on Sunday. The tenor of all was the same; that toThomas G. Higgins, captain of the defeated nine of the spring previous,read as follows:
"Need you badly. Come at once. Wire when."
Joe Perkins dropped a pound of weight every day until the middle of theweek. Examinations were imminent, and this fact, with his own conditionto think of and the worry caused by the general slump, came very nearto making him quite useless on the diamond or in class-room. There wasno practise on Monday for those who had played against Arrowden. Theywere told to stay away from the field and rest. Joe moped in his roomuntil Tracy called for him and again took him out in the automobile.
Jack went to second base that afternoon, and during the hour anda half's practise made a good showing. His throwing to first andto the plate pleased Hanson vastly. On Tuesday the first nine wasstill largely composed of substitutes. Joe and Tracy remained outand the battery was Knox and Griffin. "Wally" Stiles, the regularsecond-baseman, was out, but as he wore his every-day clothes Jack knewthat the second bag was his for the afternoon.
Showell played Bissell's place at center-field during the fieldingpractise, and later, when base-running began, was selected to start theprocession. He played well off of first in obedience to Hanson, andwhen Mears cracked a short grounder toward third base he was able toreach second with time to spare. Jack was standing just in front of thebase-line, arms outstretched toward third-baseman, and Showell saw hisopportunity to get even for the uncomfortable position in which Jackhad placed him on the occasion of the mass-meeting. Lunging out of thebase-line he struck Jack in the back with his left shoulder with allthe force he could summon. Jack pitched forward on to his face, rolledover, and lay there, feebly kicking the turf with his heels, andShowell flung himself on to the bag.
The nearest players ran to Jack's assistance and found him, white offace, gasping painfully for breath. "Baldy" reached his side almostwith the first, and, kneeling above his head, he took his arms and"pumped" them until the air was forced back into his lungs. After aliberal dousing with water, Jack sat up, gasping, and looked abouthim. His eyes fell on Showell, who was sitting on the bag watchingproceedings disinterestedly, and a wave of color swept into his face."Baldy" lifted him and supported him for a moment while he tried hisfeet. Jack was angry clear through and wished that he and Showell werealone that he might have it out with him. But he said nothing, and onlytwo or three near-by players knew that the affair was not an accident.
"Are you all right?" asked "Baldy."
"Yes," Jack answered. Knox handed him his gray cap and he pulled itdown over his forehead again and went back to the bag. Showell eyed himsharply, evidently on the lookout for retaliation.
"You want to get out of the way," he blustered.
"You'd better keep out of my way," Jack replied grimly.
"Why, what would you do?" growled the other.
But Jack made no answer, save for a glance of contempt that brought anangry flush into the somewhat sallow face of the other, and the gamewent on.
After he had cooled off a little, Jack was heartily glad that he hadnot got into a fuss with Showell, for Hanson hated any approach todisagreement during practise, and was quick to show his displeasure byputting the offenders on to the bench for long terms of idleness. ButJack had the satisfaction of twice putting Showell out, once betweenfirst and second, and once between second and third, and of knowingthat when the runner was replaced by another he had not made any toogood a showing. In the locker-house Showell kept his eye on Jack, stillnot quite satisfied that the latter did not mean to resort to hisfists to even the score, and saw Jack go out accompanied by Clover andNorthup with feelings of relief.
The next day, Wednesday, Erskine played State University with a teamstill largely made up of substitutes. Joe Perkins was back behindthe plate and Gilberth went into left-field, King occupying the box.But Motter's place at first was taken by Mears, and Jack again helddown second. Knox was back at shortstop, but the outfield, aside fromGilberth, was made up of substitutes. The most encouraging feature ofthe contest was the improved condition and hard, sharp playing ofJoe. The rest, in spite of the fact that he had fretted continuallyunder the enforced idleness, had done him lots of good. Erskine won,5 to 0, and the students strolled back to the college talking moreencouragingly of the nine's chances.
On Friday "Wally" Stiles got back into the practise and Jack, greatlyto his disgust, retired again to the bench, or, to be more exact, tothe net where Bissell was coaching a squad in bunting. Saturday's gamewas with Erstham, and before it was half over Jack was morally certainthat unless Stiles improved greatly during the next few days thesecond-baseman in the Robinson game would be one Jack Weatherby.
Stiles, unlike most of the other players, had not recovered from theslump, and his playing that afternoon was deplorable. Yet, sinceErskine took the lead in the second inning and held it throughout thecontest, he was not replaced, Hanson hoping that he would find his pacebefore the last man was out. But he didn't, even for a moment. Theteam, as a whole, showed up strongly, and Erstham went home with a 10to 2 score against her.
Jack was sorry for Stiles, really and truly sorry, he told himself; yethe would have been less than human had he not experienced a feeling ofdelight in the thought that, after all, it was not improbable that hewould get into the Robinson game. There was no certainty about it, ofcourse, he reflected, for Stiles might, in fact probably would, take abrace on Monday, and, during the five days that would then intervenebefore the last contest, win back his title to the position. But therewas ground for hope, and since Jack had hitherto never for a momentreally expected to have a chance in the big game, that slender hopebrought happiness. He went back to Elm Street and the sympathetic andpatient Anthony, whistling merrily or humming "Down with Robinson,"much out of tune.
His poetical production had duly appeared, among many others, inthe Purple, and for several days he had been highly delighted. Eachcontribution had been signed with the author's name, and Jack hadexperienced not a little good-natured teasing by his friends. But therehad been praise also, for his verses were better than the rest, andeven Professor White had congratulated him.
Jack was discovering that he had a good many friends. Not many wereintimate, to be sure, but all were apparently genuine. Joe Perkins hadpromptly spread the story of Jack's swimming
lessons, and at last thetrue reason for the latter's failure to distinguish himself in the roleof life-saver had become generally known. If the college had been quickto condemn, it was equally prompt to acknowledge its mistake, andwhile few fellows made mention of the matter to Jack, yet many of themwent out of their way to show him courtesy and kindness.
Tracy Gilberth had never mentioned the subject to any one since thetruth had come out, not even to Joe. But Jack was aware that thevarsity pitcher very frequently sought his companionship nowadays andseemed intent upon making up for the injustice he had done him. Jackwillingly met him half-way, his olden longings for revenge forgotten inhis present content. Nor, as has been said, was Tracy the only one whosought to ease his conscience by paying little attentions to the fellowhe had formerly despised. From an object of scorn and derision Jack hadchanged into something approaching a hero.
On the Sunday succeeding the Erstham game Jack and Anthony were seatedin the latter's room shortly after noon when Mrs. Dorlon knocked on thedoor and announced a caller, presently ushering in with many excitedsniffles Professor White. The professor carried a newspaper in one handand his immaculate silk hat in the other. He greeted the two and tookthe chair that Anthony promptly pushed forward. But remarks on thebeauty and seasonableness of the weather seemed to interest him butlittle, and as soon as politeness would permit he plunged into thesubject which had brought him.
"Do you own a watch, Tidball?" he asked.
Anthony stared, shot a glance at Jack, and after a moment of hesitationanswered: "Yes, that is--well, in a way."
"You have it now?" the professor went on. Jack scented mystery, andlistened attentively, wondering the while why Anthony looked souncomfortable. Surely it was no disgrace to borrow money on one's ownproperty! Anthony hesitated again, then answered "No."
"Was it stolen?" continued the professor.
"Stolen? Well, now-- But, look here, professor, suppose you tell me whyyou want to know?"
"Perhaps I had better," responded the other. "You're probably thinkingme pretty cheeky and inquisitive. But I was reading the paper a fewminutes ago, and saw that they'd arrested a tramp over in Gerrydale,and had found a lot of pawn-tickets on him. When they visited thepawn-shop and recovered the property they found among other jewelrya watch with the inscription--let me see." He found the place in thepaper he held and read: "'Gold watch and chain; former inscribedAnthony Z. Tidball, from Henry Wright Porter--July, 1902.' That's yourname, and I thought perhaps the watch was yours. Is it?"