Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball

  CHAPTER III

  MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF

  The caller looked to be about twenty-one or two years of age. He wastall, thin, and angular, and carried himself awkwardly. His shouldershad the stoop that tells of much poring over books. His hands andfeet were large, the former knotted and ungainly. His face was lean,the cheeks somewhat sunken; the nose was large and well-shapen andthe mouth, altogether too broad, looked good-natured and humorous. Hewore steel-rimmed spectacles, behind which twinkled a pair of small,pale-blue eyes, kindly and shrewd. His clothes seemed at first sight tobelong to some one very much larger; the trousers hung in baggy foldsabout his legs and his coat went down behind his neck exposing at leastan inch of checkered gingham shirt.

  And yet, despite the incongruity of his appearance, he impressed Jackas being a person of importance, a man who knew things and who wascapable of turning his knowledge to good account. Tidball? Wherehad he heard the name of Tidball? As he thought of it now, the nameseemed strangely familiar. Recollecting his duties as host, Jack pushedforward the patent rocker.

  "Won't you sit down?" he asked.

  The visitor sank into the chair, bringing one big foot, loosely encasedin a frayed leather slipper, on to one knee, and clasping it with bothknotted hands quite as though he feared it might walk off when hewasn't looking.

  "Queer sort of weather we're having," he drawled. He talked throughhis nose with a twang that proclaimed him a native of the coast. Jackconcurred, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cot and wonderingwhether Tidball recognized him.

  "Mrs. Thingamabob down-stairs said you were from Maine. Maine's myState. I come from Jonesboro; ever hear of Jonesboro?"

  "No, I don't believe so." The visitor chuckled.

  "Never met any one who had. Guess I'm about the only resident of thatmetropolis who ever strayed out of it. There's one fellow in our town,though, who went down to Portland once about forty years back. He'slooked on as quite a traveler in Jonesboro."

  Jack smiled. "My folks live near Auburn," he said.

  "Nice place, Auburn. By the way, my name's Tidball--Anthony Z. Z standsfor Zeno; guess I'm a sort of a Stoic myself." The remark was lost onJack, whose acquaintance with the Greek philosophers was still limited.

  "My name's Weatherby," he returned. "My first name's Jack; I haven'tany middle name."

  "You're lucky," answered the other. "They might have called youXenophanes, you see." Jack didn't see, but he smiled doubtfully, andthe visitor went on. "Well, now we know each other. We're the onlyfellows in the hut and we might as well get together, eh? Guess I sawyou this afternoon down at the river, didn't I?"

  Jack flushed and nodded.

  "Thought so." There was a moment's silence, during which the visitor'sshrewd eyes studied Jack openly and calmly and during which all the oldmisery, forgotten for the moment, came back to the boy. Then--

  "Guess you can't swim, eh?" asked the other.

  "No, not a stroke," muttered Jack.

  "Thought so," reiterated Tidball. There was another silence. Then Jacksaid, with an uneasy laugh:

  "There's no doubt but that you can, though."

  "Me? Yes, I can swim like a shark. Down in Jonesboro we learn whenwe're a year old. Comes natural to us coasters."

  "It was lucky you were there this afternoon," said Jack.

  "Oh, some one else would have gone in, I guess!"

  "He--he didn't--he wasn't drowned, was he?"

  "The kid? No, but plaguy near it. He's all right now, I guess. Teachhim a lesson."

  "Did the bridge go?" asked Jack after a moment, merely to break anothersilence.

  "No, water was going down when I left. Guess I'm in the way, though,ain't I?"

  "In the way?"

  "Yes; weren't you doing something when I came in? Packing a trunk orsomething?"

  "Oh, it--it doesn't matter; there's no hurry."

  "Going home over Sunday?"

  "Y--yes."

  "You're lucky; wish I was. But don't let me interrupt; go ahead andI'll just sit here out of the way, if you don't mind my staying."

  "Not at all; I--I'm glad to have you." And the odd thing about it, asJack realized the next moment, was that he meant what he said. Thevisitor drew a little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch fromanother.

  "Smoke?" he asked.

  "No," answered Jack.

  "Mind if I do?"

  "Not a bit." Tidball stuffed the bowl with tobacco and was soon sendinglong clouds of rankly smelling smoke into the air.

  "Don't begin," he advised. "It's a mean habit; wastes time and moneyand doesn't do you any good after all. Wish I didn't."

  "But couldn't you break yourself of it?" asked Jack.

  Tidball chuckled again and blew a great mouthful of gray smoke towardthe gaslight.

  "Don't want to," he answered.

  "Oh!" said Jack, puzzled.

  "Going to take your trunk?" asked the other, waving his pipe toward it.

  "No, just a bag. I'll send for the trunk later." Then, as he realizedhis mistake, the blood rushed into his cheeks. He looked up at Tidballand found that person eying him quizzically. "I--I mean--that----"

  "No harm done," interrupted the visitor. "Thought when I came in youmeant to cut and run. Why?"

  "Because--because I can't stay," answered Jack defiantly. "You--youwere there and you saw it. Everybody thinks I'm a coward! ProfessorWhite said--said--" He choked and looked down miserably at his twistingfingers.

  "Well, you aren't, are you?"

  Jack glanced up startledly.

  "Why--why--no, I'm not a coward!" he cried.

  "Didn't think you were. You don't look it."

  Jack experienced a grateful warmth at the heart and looked shyly andthankfully at the queer, lean face across the room.

  "But--but they all think I am," he muttered.

  "I wouldn't prove them right, then, if I were you."

  "Prove-- What do you mean?"

  "Mean I wouldn't run away; mean I'd stay and fight it out. Any one canrun; takes a brave man to stand and fight."

  "Oh!" Jack stared wonderingly at Tidball. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "'Tisn't too late."

  "N--no," answered Jack doubtfully. "You--think I ought to stay?"

  "Yes, I honestly do, Weatherby. You've got nothing to be ashamed of;'twouldn't have done any good if you'd gone into the river; guess you'dbeen drowned--'tother chap, too. White jumped at conclusions andlanded wrong. Can't much blame him, though. You see, the fellows hereat Erskine come from the country, or the coast, or some small town,and swimming's as natural as eating, and I guess it didn't occur tothem that maybe you couldn't swim. But when they learn the truth of thematter----"

  "But they won't know," said Jack.

  "Bound to. I'll see White myself, and I'll tell all the chaps I know;'twon't take long for the facts to get around."

  "I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind," said Jack. "It's awfullykind of you----"

  "Didn't what?"

  "See Professor White."

  "Well--of course, I know you're feeling kind of sore at him, Weatherby,and I don't much blame you; still, there's no use in allowing themisunderstanding to continue when a word or two will set things right."

  "I don't care what he thinks," said Jack, bitterly.

  "All right," replied Tidball calmly. "How about the others?"

  Jack studied his hands in silence for a minute. Then he threw back hisshoulders and got up.

  "You're mighty kind," he said, "to want to take all this trouble onmy account, and I'm awfully much obliged to you, but--if you don'tmind--I'd rather you didn't say anything to anybody."

  Tidball frowned.

  "Then you mean to run away?" he asked disappointedly.

  "No, I'll stay and--and fight! Let them think me a coward if they like;only some day I'll show them I'm not!"

  "That's the stuff," said the other approvingly. "I guess you're makinga mistake by not explaining, but--maybe you'll change your m
ind. If youdo, let me know."

  "Thanks," answered Jack, "but I sha'n't." He took up his valise andholding it upside down emptied the contents on to the cot. "I wishyou'd tell me one thing," he said.

  "All right."

  "Did you--I mean-- Well, did you just happen to come in, or--did youknow I was--The Coward?"

  "Well," drawled the other, smiling gently at a cloud of smoke, "Mrs.Thingamabob told me yesterday when I engaged that room that she had avery nice young man, a freshman named Weatherby, living with her. Thename isn't common, I guess, and so when I heard it again down at thewharf I remembered. And I just thought I'd come in and see what sillything you'd decided to do. Kind of cheeky, I guess, but that's my way.Hope you're not offended?"

  "No, I'm awfully glad. If you hadn't come I'd have gone away, sure asanything."

  "Glad I came. Hope we'll be friends. You must come over and see me.You won't find things very palatial in my place, but there's an extrachair, I think. I don't go in much for luxuries. I was rooming in aplace on Main Street until to-day; very comfortable place it was, too:folding-bed, lounge, rocking-chair, and a study desk with real drawersthat locked--at least, some of them did. My roommate was a fellow namedGooch, from up my way. His father died a week or so ago, and yesterdayI got a letter from him saying he'd have to leave college and buckledown to work. Couldn't afford to keep the room alone, so I looked roundand found this. Well, I must be going."

  He pulled his long length out of the chair, and, producing from achamois pouch a handsome big gold watch, oddly at variance with hisshabby attire, held it nearsightedly to the dim light.

  "Don't be in a hurry," begged Jack. And then, "That's a dandy watch youhave," he added. "May I see it?"

  "Yes," answered Tidball, holding it forth at the length of its chain,"it's the only swell thing I own. It's a present."

  "Oh!" said Jack. "Well, it's a beauty. And it's got a split-secondattachment, too, hasn't it?"

  "Yes, and when you press this thing here it strikes the time; hear it?Guess it cost a heap of money."

  "It must have. Was it a prize?"

  "Something like that. A New York fellow gave it to me summer beforelast. He came up to Jonesboro in a steam-yacht about a thousand feetlong. Well, I've got a lot of studying to do yet." He moved toward thedoor.

  "But why did he give it to you?" asked Jack. "But maybe I'm askingimpertinent questions?"

  "Oh, no; there's no secret about it, only-- Well, you see, thissteam-yacht man had his son with him, a kid of about eleven or twelve,I guess, and one day the kid fell out of the naphtha-launch. There wasa good sea running, and they couldn't get the launch about very well. Ihappened to be near there in a dory, and so I picked the youngster up.His daddy seemed a good deal tickled about it, and after he got home hesent this to me. That's all. Some people seem to have money to burn.Well, good night. Glad to have met you. Come over and call as soon asyou can."

  And Anthony Z. Tidball nodded, blew a parting cloud of smoke in Jack'sdirection, and went out, closing the door softly behind him.