Andy at Yale Part 52

The runner, going wildly, looked to get a signal from the coach. He received it, in a hasty gesture, telling him to stay at third. He stayed, panting from his speed, while the Princeton lads kept up their cheering.

"Now will you feed us some more of those hot cross buns?" cried a wag to Dunk.

"Make him eat out of the bean trough!"

"He's got a gla.s.s arm!"

"Swat it, Kelly! A home run and we'll score two!"

This was cried to the next man up. Dunk looked at Andy and shrugged his shoulders. His guessing had not been productive of much good to Yale, for the first man had gotten just the kind of a ball he wanted. Dunk made up his mind to be more wary.

"Play for the runner," Andy signaled to his chum, meaning to make an effort to kill off the run, and not try to get the batsman out in case of a hit.

"All right," Dunk signaled back.

"Ball one!" howled the umpire, after the first delivery.

"That's the way! Make him give you a nice one."

"Take your time! Wait for what you want!" This was the advice given the batter.

And evidently the man at the plate got the sort of ball he wanted, for he struck at and hit the next one--hit it cleanly and fairly, and it sailed out toward left field.

"Get it!" cried the Yale captain.

The fielder was right under it--certainly it looked as though he could not miss. The batsman was speeding for first, while the man on third was coming home, and the crowd was yelling wildly.

Andy had thrown off his mask, and was waiting at home for the ball, to kill off the player speeding in from third.

"Here's where we make a double play!" he exulted, for the man going to first had stumbled slightly, and was out of his stride. It looked as though it could be done. But alas for the hopes of Yale! The fielder got the ball fairly in his hands, but whether he was nervous, or whether the ball had such speed that it tore through, was not apparent. At any rate, he m.u.f.fed the fly.

"Good-night!"

"That settles it!"

"Go on, Ranter! Go on, c.o.o.ney!"

Coaches, the captain, Princeton players and the crowd of Tiger sympathizers were wildly calling to the two runners. And indeed they were coming on.

Andy groaned. He could not help it. Dunk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. The fielder, with a gulp and a gone feeling at the pit of his stomach, picked up the m.u.f.fed ball, and threw it to second. It was the only play left. And the batsman, who had started to make his two-bagger, went back to first. But the run had come in.

"That's the way we do it!"

"Come on, fellows, the 'Orange and Black' song!"

"No, the new one! 'Watch the Tiger Claw the Bulldog!'"

The cheer leaders were trying to decide on something with which to celebrate the drawing of "first blood."

The grandstands were a riot of waving yellow and black, while, on the other side, the blue banners dropped most disconsolately. But it was not for long.

"Come on, boys!" cried the plucky Yale captain. "That's only one run. We only need three out and we'll show 'em what we can do! Every man on the job! Lively! Play ball!"

Dunk received the horsehide from the second baseman, and began to wind up for his next delivery. He narrowly watched the man on first, and once nearly caught him napping. Several times Dunk threw to the initial sack, in order to get the nerve of the runner. Then he suddenly stung in one to the man at the plate.

"Strike--one!" yelled the umpire. The batter gave a sign of protest, but he thought better of any verbal comment.

"That's the way!" cried the Yale captain. "Two more like that, and he's down!"

Dunk did it, though the man struck one foul which Andy m.u.f.fed, much to his chagrin.

"Give 'em the Boola song!" called a Yale cheer leader, and it was rousingly sung. This seemed to make the Yale players have more confidence, and they were on their mettle. But, though they did their best, Princeton scored two more runs, and, with this lead against her, Yale came to the bat.

"Steady all!" counseled the captain. "We're going to win, boys."

But it did not seem so, when the first inning ended with no score for Yale. Princeton's pitcher was proving his power, and he was well supported. Man after man--some of them Yale's best hitters--went down before his arm.

The situation looked desperate. In spite of the frantic cheering of the Yale freshmen, it seemed as if her players could not take the necessary brace.

"Fellows, come here!" yelled the captain, when it came time for Andy and his chums to take the field after a vain attempt to score. "We've got to do something. Dunk, I want you to strike out a couple of men for a change!"

"I--I'll do it!" cried the pitcher.

Then Dunk pulled himself together, and the Tiger's lead was cut down.

Once the game was a tie Yale's chances seemed to brighten, and when she got a lead of one run in the eighth her cohorts went wild, the stand blossoming forth into a waving ma.s.s of blue.

This good feeling was further added to when Princeton was shut out without a run in the beginning of the ninth, and as Andy, Dunk and the other Yale players came in, having won the game, they received an ovation for their victory.

Ikey Stein, sitting in the grandstand near an elderly gentleman, yelled, shouted and stamped his feet at the Yale victory.

"You seem wonderfully exercised about it, my young friend," remarked the elderly gentleman. "Did you have a large wager up on this game?"

"No, sir, but now I can sell two dollars worth of socks," replied Ikey, hurrying off to get Dunk and Andy to redeem their promises.

"Hum, very strange college customs these days--very strange," murmured the elderly gentleman, shaking his head.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THE TRAP

Joyous was the crowd of Yale players as they trooped off the field. The freshmen had opened their season well by defeating Princeton, and the wearers of the orange and black gave their victors a hearty cheer, which was repaid in kind.

"It's good to be on the winning side," exulted Andy, as he walked along with Dunk.