CHAPTER XVIII
PLOTTING
Joe Matson was trembling when he went to his place, even after somelively warming-up practice with the catcher. The very thing he mostwanted had come to him very unexpectedly. And yet he was sensible enoughto realize that this was only a trial, and that it did not mean he wouldpitch against Amherst. But he had great hopes.
"Come!" he exclaimed to himself, as he got ready for the opening of thegame. "I've got to pull myself together or I'll go all to pieces. Braceup!"
The sight of Weston glaring at him helped, in a measure, to restore Joeto himself.
"He's hoping I won't make good," thought Joe. "But I will! I must!"
It may have been because of Joe's natural nervousness, or because thescrub team was determined to show that they could bat even their ownpitcher, that was the cause of so many runs coming in during the firstinning. No one could rightly say, but the fact remained that the runsdid come in, and it began to look bad for the 'varsity.
"I told you how it would be--putting in a green pitcher," complained Mr.Benson.
"Perhaps," admitted the head coach. "But wait a bit. Joe isn't as greenas he looks. Wait until next inning."
And he was justified, for Joe got himself well in hand, and the'varsity, as if driven to desperation by another defeat staring them inthe face so near to the Amherst game, batted as they never had before.Avondale was all but knocked out of the box, and the scrub captainsubstituted another pitcher, who did much better. Joe's former rivalalmost wept at his own inability.
Meanwhile our hero was himself again, and though he did give three mentheir bases on balls, he allowed very few hits, so that the 'varsitytook the game by a good margin, considering their bad start.
"That's the way to do it!" cried Captain Hatfield, when the contest wasover.
"Do it to Amherst," was the comment of the head coach.
"We will!" cried the members of the first team.
"Good work, Matson," complimented Hatfield. "Can you do it again?"
"Maybe--if I get the chance," laughed Joe, who was on an elevation ofdelight.
"Oh, I guess you'll have to get the chance," spoke the captain. He didnot notice that Weston was close behind him, but Joe did, and he saw thelook of anger and almost hate that passed over the face of the pitcher.
"He looks as though he'd like to bite me," murmured Joe. "And yet it'sall a fair game. I may get knocked out myself. But even then I'm notgoing to give up. I'm in this to stay! If not at Yale, then somewhereelse."
If Joe imagined that his work that day had been without flaws he wassoon to be disillusioned, for Mr. Hasbrook, coming up to him a littlelater, pointed out where he had made several bad errors in judgment,though they had not resulted in any gain for the scrub.
"Still," said the head coach, "you don't want to make them, for with asharp team, and some of the big college nines playing against you, thosesame errors would lose the game." And he proceeded to give Joe some goodadvice.
When Avondale, the twice-humiliated pitcher, walked off the diamond thatafternoon, he was joined by Weston, who linked his arm in that of thescrub twirler.
"Well, we're both in the same boat," remarked Avondale. "A better manhas ousted us."
"Not at all--nothing of the sort!" cried Weston, and his voice showedhow much he was nervously wrought up. "I don't admit for a minute thatMatson can pitch better than I can."
"Well, I do, in my own case, and the coaches seem to in yours."
"I'm a little out of form to-day," admitted Weston, quickly. "I'll beall right to-morrow, and I'll pitch against Amherst."
"It'll be a great game," spoke Avondale.
"Maybe. But say, what do you think of a fellow like him--a regularcountry clod-hopper--coming here, anyhow?"
"Who do you mean?"
"Matson. What right has he got to butt in at a college like Yale, anddisplace the fellows who have worked hard for the nine?"
"The right of ability, I suppose."
"Ability nothing! He doesn't belong here, and he ought to be made toquit."
"Well, I confess I don't like to lose the place I worked so hard for,and I don't see much chance of making the 'varsity now," admittedAvondale; "but at the same time I must give Matson credit for his work."
"Bah! It's only a flash in the pan. He can't last. I think I could makehim quit if I wanted to."
"How?"
"Would you join me in a little trick if we could?"
"I don't know. What do you mean?" and Avondale looked curiously at hiscompanion.
"I mean that red paint business and the spoiling of the ancientmanuscripts. If it was known who did it he'd get fired."
"You don't mean to say Matson had a hand in that!" cried Avondaleaghast.
"I'm not saying anything. But if it could be shown that he did it, he'dnot pitch for Yale--that's sure. Shall I say any more? Remember I'mmaking no cracks yet. But I know some things about Matson no one elseknows." This was true enough, but Avondale did not take it in the sensein which it could have been truthfully said, but, rather, as Westonmeant he should--wrongly.
Now Avondale had one fault. He was too easily led. He was brilliant,full of promise, and a jolly chap--hail-fellow-well-met with everyone,and that is not the best thing in the world, though it makes fortemporary popularity. Avondale was his own worst enemy, and many a timehe had not the courage to say "no!" when the utterance of it would havesaved him from trouble. So when Weston thus temptingly held out thebait, Avondale nibbled.
"Shall I say any more?" went on the other. "Remember, you've got to beas tight as a drum on this."
"Of course. I--er--I--that is----"
"Come over here and I'll tell you something," went on the 'varsitypitcher, and the two were soon in close conversation.