CHAPTER V
OFF FOR YALE
"We've got the game in the refrigerator--on ice."
"Take it easy now, Silver Stars."
"Let 'em get a few runs if they want to."
Thus spoke some of the spectators, and a number of the members of thehome team, as the last half of the seventh inning started with the scoreten to three in favor of the Silver Stars. It had not been a very tightcontest on either side, and errors were numerous. Yet, in spite of thesneering laugh of the Yale man, Joe knew that he had pitched a goodgame. They had hit him but seldom, and one run was due to a muffed ballby the centre fielder.
"Well, I guess you haven't forgotten how to pitch," exulted Tom, as hesat beside his chum on the bench.
Behind them, and over their heads, sat the spectators in the grandstand,and when the applause at a sensational catch just made by the leftfielder, retiring the third man, had died away the voices of many incomment on the game could be heard.
"Oh, I'm not so very proud of myself," remarked Joe. "I can see lots ofroom for improvement. But I'm all out of practice. I think I could haveheld 'em down better if we'd had a few more games to back us up."
"Sure thing. Well, this is a good way to wind up the season. I heard alittle while ago that the Resolutes came over here to make mince-meat ofus. They depended a whole lot on their pitcher, but you made him looklike thirty cents."
"Oh, I don't know. He's got lots of speed, and if he had the benefit ofthe coaching we got at Excelsior Hall he'd make a dandy."
"Maybe. I'm going over here to have a chin with Rodney Burke. I won't beup for a good while."
"And I guess I won't get a chance this inning," remarked Joe, as hesettled back on the bench. As he did so he was aware of a conversationgoing on in the stand over his head.
"And you say he's going to Yale this term?" asked someone--a youth'sdeep-chested tones.
"I believe so--yes," answered a girl. Joe recognized that Mabel Daviswas speaking. "He's a chum of my brother's," she went on.
"They're talking of me," thought Joe, and he looked apprehensively athis companions on the bench, but they seemed to be paying no attentionto him, for which he was grateful. They were absorbed in the game.
"Going to Yale; eh?" went on the youth's voice, and Joe felt sure he wasFord Weston. "Well, we eat his kind up down there!"
"Hush! You mustn't talk so of my friends," warned Mabel, and yet shelaughed.
"Oh, if he's a friend of yours, that's different," came the retort."You're awful strong with me, Mabel, and I'd do anything you asked."
The girl laughed in a pleased sort of way, and Joe, with a wild feelingin his heart, felt a certain scorn for both of them.
"Yes, he and my brother are chums," resumed Mabel. "They went toboarding school together, but Joe is going to Yale. He is just crazyabout baseball--in fact Tom is, too, but Joe wants to be a greatpitcher."
"Does he think he's going to pitch at Yale?"
"I believe he does!"
"Then he's got a whole lot more thinks coming!" laughed the Yale man."He's about the craziest specimen of a tosser I ever stacked up against.He'll never make the Yale scrub!"
"Hush! Haven't I told you not to talk so about my friend?" insisted thegirl, but there was still laughter in her tones.
"All right Miss Mabel. I'll do anything you say. Wow! That was a prettyhit all right. Go it, old man! A three-bagger!" and in the enthusiasmover the game the Yale man dropped Joe as a topic of conversation.
Our hero, with burning cheeks, got up and strolled away. He had heardtoo much, but he was glad they did not know he had unintentionally beenlistening.
The game ended with the Silver Stars winners, but the score was not asclose as seemed likely in the seventh inning. For the Resolutes, mostunexpectedly, began hitting Joe, though he managed to pull himselftogether in the ninth, and retired his opponents hitless. The last halfof the ninth was not played, as the home team had a margin of two runs.
"Well, we did 'em," remarked Tom, as he and Joe walked off the field."But they sort of pulled up on us. Did they get on to your curves?"
"No," spoke Joe listlessly. "I--er--I got a little tired I guess."
"No wonder. You're not in trim. But you stiffened up at the last."
"Oh, yes," but Joe knew it was not weariness that accounted for hisbeing hit so often. It was because of an inward rage, a sense of shame,and, be it confessed, a bit of fear.
For well he knew how little it would take, in such a college as Yale,to make or mar a man. Should he come, heralded perhaps by the unfriendlytongue of the lad who had watched him pitch that day--heralded as onewith a "swelled head"--as one who thought himself a master-pitcher--Joeknew he could never live it down.
"I'll never get my chance--the chance for the 'varsity--if he begins totalk," mused Joe, and for a time he was miserable.
"Come on over to grub," invited Tom. "Sis and her latest find will bethere--that Yale chap. Maybe you'd like to meet him. If you don't we cansneak in late and there'll be some eats left."
"No, thanks, I don't believe I will," replied Joe listlessly.
"Don't you want to meet that Yale fellow? Maybe he could give you somepoints."
"No, I'd rather not."
"All right," assented Tom quickly. Something in his chum's tones madehim wonder what was the matter, but he did not ask.
"I've got some packing to do," went on Joe, conscious that he was notacting very cordially toward his old schoolmate. "I may see you later."
"Sure, any time. I'll be on hand to see you off for Yale, old man."
"Yale!" whispered Joe, as he swung off toward his own home,half-conscious of the pointing fingers and whispered comments of anumber of street urchins who were designating him as "dat's de pitchin'guy what walloped de Resolutes!"
"Yale!" thought Joe. "I'm beginning to hate it!"
And then a revulsion of feeling suddenly came over him.
"Hang it all!" he exclaimed as he stumbled along. "This is no way for afellow to feel if he's going to college. I've got to perk up. If I am togo to Yale, I'm going to do my best to be worth it!"
But something rankled in his heart, and, try as he might he could nothelp clenching his teeth and gripping his hands as he thought of FordWeston.
"I--I'd like to fight him!" murmured Joe. "I wonder if they allow fightsat Yale?"
Several days later you might have heard this in the Matson home.
"Well, Joe, have you got everything packed?"
"Don't forget to send me a flag."
"You've got your ticket all right, haven't you?"
"Write as soon as you get there."
"And whatever you do, don't go around with wet feet. It's coming onWinter now----"
"Mother! Mother!" broke in Mr. Matson, with a laugh at his wife anddaughter on either side of Joe, questioning and giving advice by turns."You're like hens with one chicken. Don't coddle him so. He's been awaybefore, and he's getting big enough to know his way around by thistime."
Well might he say so, for Joe had grown fast in the past three years,and, though but nineteen, was taller than his father, who was not asmall man.
"Of course he's been away," agreed Mrs. Matson, "but not as far as NewHaven, and going to Yale is some different from Excelsior Hall, Iguess."
"I _know_ so," murmured Joe, with a wink at his father.
"I'm going to the station with you," declared Clara. "Here comes Tom. Iguess he's going, too."
"Well, I'll say good-bye here," said Mrs. Matson, and her voice trembleda little. "Good-bye, my boy. I know you'll do what's right, and make usall proud of you!"
Joe's answer was a kiss, and then, with her handkerchief much inevidence, Mrs. Matson left the room.
"Come! Come!" laughed Mr. Matson. "You'll make Joe sorry he's going ifyou keep on."
"The only thing I'm sorry about," replied the lad, "is that it'll be agood while until Spring."
"Baseball; eh?" queried his father. "Well, I suppose you'll play if youget
the chance. But, Joe, just remember that life isn't all baseball,though that has its place in the scheme of things. You're not going toYale just to play baseball."
"But, if I get a chance, I'm going to play my head off!" exclaimed thelad, and, for the first time in some days there came a fierce light ofjoy into his eyes.
"That's the spirit, son," exclaimed Mr. Matson. "And just remember that,while you want to win, it isn't the only point in the game. Always be agentleman--play hard; but play clean! That's all the advice I'm going togive you," and with a shake of his hand the inventor followed his wifefrom the room.
"Well, I guess I'm going to be left alone to do the honors," laughedClara. "Come on now, it's almost train time. Oh, hello, Tom!" she added,as Joe's chum entered. "Did you bring any extra handkerchiefs with you?"
"Say I'll pull your hairpins out, Clara, if you don't quit fooling!"threatened her brother.
Joe's baggage, save for a small valise, had been sent on ahead, andnow, calling a good-bye to his parents, but not going to them, forhe realized that it would only make his mother cry more, the youngcollegian, escorted by his sister and chum, started for the station.
Our hero found a few of his friends gathered there, among them MabelDavis.
"And so you're off for Yale," she remarked, and Joe noticed that shetoo, like his sister, seemed to have "grown up" suddenly in the lastyear. Mabel was quite a young lady now.
"Yes, I'm off," replied Joe, rather coldly.
"Oh, I think it's just grand to go to a big college," went on Mabel. "Iwish papa would let Tom go."
"I wish so myself," chimed in her brother.
"I know one Yale man," went on Mabel. "I met him this Summer. He was atthe game the other day. I could write to him, and tell him you arecoming."
"Please don't!" exclaimed Joe so suddenly that Mabel drew back, a littleoffended.
"Wa'al, I want to shake hands with you, an' wish you all success,"exclaimed a voice at Joe's elbow. He turned to see Mr. EbenezerPeterkin, a neighbor. "So you're off for college. I hear they're greatplaces for football and baseball! Ha! Ha! 'Member th' time you throwed aball through our winder, and splashed Alvirah's apple sass all over herclean stove? 'Member that, Joe?"
"Indeed I do, Mr. Peterkin. And how you told Tom and me to hurry off, asyour wife was coming after us."
"That's right! Ha! Ha! Alvirah was considerable put out that day. She'djust got her stove blacked, an' that sass was some of her best. Th'ball landed plump into it! 'Member?" and again the old man chuckled withmirth.
"I remember," laughed Joe. "And how Tom and I blackened the stove, andhelped clean up the kitchen for your wife. I was practising pitchingthat day."
"Oh, yes, you _pitched_ all right," chuckled the aged man. "Wa'al, Joe,I wish you all sorts of luck, an' if you do pitch down there at Yale,don't go to splattering no apple sass!"
"I won't," promised the lad.
There were more congratulations, more wishes for success, more handshakings and more good-byes, and then the whistle of the approachingtrain was heard. Somehow Joe could not but remember the day he haddriven the man to the station just in time to get his train. He wonderedif he would ever see that individual again.
"Good-bye, Joe!"
"So long, old man!"
"Don't forget to write!"
"Play ball!"
"Good-bye, Joe!"
Laughter, cheers, some tears too, but not many, waving hands, and amidall this Joe entered the train. He waved back as long as he could seeany of them, and then he settled back in his seat.
He was off for Yale--for Yale, with all its traditions, its mysteries,its learning and wiseness, its sports and games, its joys andsorrows--its heart-burnings and its delights, its victories--anddefeats! Off for Yale. Joe felt his breath choking him, and into hiseyes there came a mist as he gazed out of the window. Off for Yale--andbaseball!