CHAPTER XII
DISCONTENT
"Leg it, Joe! Leg it!"
"Keep on! Keep on!"
"He can't get you in time!"
"A home run! A homer, old man!"
"Keep a-going! Keep a-going!"
These and other frantic appeals and bits of advice were hurled at Joe ashe dashed madly on. He had a glimpse of the centre fielder racing madlyafter the ball, and then he felt for the first time that he really had achance to make a home run. Still he knew that the ball travels fast whenonce thrown, and it might be relayed in, for he saw the second basemanrunning back to assist the centre fielder.
"But I'm going to beat it!" panted Joe to himself.
The grandstand and bleachers were now a mass of yelling excitedspectators. There was a good attendance at the game, many women andgirls being present, and Joe could hear their shrill voices minglingwith the hoarser shouts of the men and boys.
"Keep on! Keep on!" he heard yelled encouragingly at him.
"That's the stuff, old man!" shouted Darrell, who was coaching at thethird base line.
"Shall I go in?" cried Joe as he turned the last bag.
Darrell took a swift glance toward the field. He saw what Joe could not.The centre fielder instead of relaying in the ball by the second baseman(for the throw was too far for him), had attempted to get it to thirdalone. Darrell knew it would fall short.
"Yes! Yes!" he howled. "Go on in, Joe! Go on in!"
And Joe went.
Just as the manager had anticipated, the ball fell short, and thepitcher who had run down to cover second had to run out of the diamondto get it. It was an error in judgment, and helped Joe to make hissensational run.
He was well on his way home now, but the pitcher had the ball and wasthrowing it to the catcher.
"Slide, Joe! Slide!" yelled Darrell above the wild tumult of the otherplayers and the spectators.
Joe kept on until he knew a slide would be effective and then, droppinglike a shot, he fairly tore through the dust, feet first, toward homeplate. His shoes covered it as the ball came with a thud into theoutstretched hands of the catcher.
"Safe!" yelled the umpire, and there was no questioning his decision.
"Good play!" yelled the crowd.
"That's the stuff, old man!" exclaimed Darrell, rushing up and clappingJoe on the back.
"A few more like that and the game will either go ten innings or we'llhave it in the ice-box for ourselves," commented Captain Rankingleefully.
But the hopes of the Silver Stars were doomed to disappointment. Try asthe succeeding men did to connect with the ball, the best that could beknocked out was a single, and that was not effective, for the man whodid it was caught attempting to steal second and two others were struckout.
That ended the game, Joe's solitary run being the only one tallied up,and the final score was three to six in favor of the Red Stockings.
"Three cheers for the Silver Stars!" called the captain of thesuccessful nine and they were given with right good feeling.
"Three cheers for the Red Stockings," responded Darrell. "They were toomuch for us," and the cheers of the losers were none less hearty thanthose of their rivals.
"And three cheers for the fellow who made the home run!" added a RedStocking player, and our hero could not help blushing as he was thushonored.
"It was all to the pepper-castor, old man," complimented Darrell. "Wedidn't put up a very good game, but you sort of stand out among theother Stars."
"And I suppose the rest of us did rotten!" snarled Sam Morton as hewalked past.
"Well, to be frank, I think we _all_ did," spoke Darrell. "I'm notsaying that Joe didn't make any errors, for he did. But he made the onlyhome run of the game, and that's a lot."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," sneered the disgruntled pitcher. "You'll beblaming me next for the loss of the game."
"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Darrell quickly. "I think we've all gotto bear our share of the defeat. We ought to have played better, andwe've got to, if we don't want to be at the tail end of the countyleague."
"And that means that I've got to do better pitching, I suppose?" sneeredSam.
"It means we've _all_ got to do better work," put in Captain Rankin."You along with the rest of us, Sam. You know you were pretty wellbatted to-day."
"Any fellow is likely to be swatted once in a while. Look at some of theprofessionals."
"I'm not saying they're not," admitted the captain. "What I do say isthat we've all got to perk up. We've got to take a brace, and I'm notsparing myself. We're not doing well."
"No, that's right," admitted several other players. In fact there was ageneral feeling of discontent manifested, and it was very noticeable.Darrell Blackney was aware of it, and he hoped it would not spread, fornothing is so sure to make a team slump as discontent ordissatisfaction.
"Oh, Joe!" exclaimed a girl's voice, and he turned to see his sisterwalking toward him over the field. "That was a fine run you made." Shehad two other girls with her and Joe, who was a bit bashful, turned toexecute a retreat.
"I believe you never met my brother," went on Clara, and there was atrace of pride in her tone. "Miss Mabel Davis," said Clara, presentingher to Joe, "and Miss Helen Rutherford."
"I've heard my sister speak of you," murmured the young centre fielder.
"And I've heard my brother speak of _you_," said Mabel, and Joe wasconscious that he was blushing.
"I've got to wash up now," he said, not knowing what to talk about whentwo pretty girls, to say nothing of his own sister, were staring at him.
"Does your hand hurt you much?" asked Mabel.
"No--it's only a scratch," said Joe, not with a strict regard for thetruth.
"Oh, I thought I'd faint when I saw you lying there so still," spokeClara with a little shudder.
"So did I," added Helen, and then Joe made his escape before they could"fuss" over him any more.
There was considerable talk going on in the dressing room when Joeentered. He could hear the voice of Sam Morton raised in high andseemingly angry tones.
"Well, I'm not going to stand for it!" the pitcher said.
"Stand for what?" asked Darrell in surprise.
"Being accused of the cause for the loss of this game!"
"No one accuses you," put in the captain.
"You might as well say it as look it," retorted Sam. "I tell you I won'tstand for it. Just because that new fellow made a home run you're all upin the air about him, and for all the hard work I do, what do I get forit? Eh? Nothing, that's what!"
"Now, look here," said Darrell soothingly, "you know you're talkingfoolishly, Sam."
"I am not!" cried the pitcher petulantly. "Either Joe Matson leaves theteam or I do, and you can have my resignation any time you want it!"