Batting to Win Part 40

Sufficient to say that, reckoning in some forfeited contests, and computing the standings on the basis of games won and lost, it developed that if Boxer Hall beat Fairview it would make a tie for first place between Boxer and Randall, and all would then depend on the final contest between those two latter teams.

Therefore it was with no small jubilation that the news was received, a week later, that Boxer had downed Fairview.

"Now for _our_ chance to win!" cried Tom, brightening up a little. "All we have to do is to wallop Boxer, and the loving cup is ours. But Oh, Phil! if we only had Sid!"

"That's right. Have you noticed how queer he's been acting of late?"

"Oh, it's the same old story. I'm done now. I made my last appeal. By the way, I didn't hear what happened the time he was last caught by Zane. What was the verdict?"

"It hasn't been announced yet. Faculty held a meeting but deferred action. It means expulsion, of course. Poor old Sid!"

"Well, he brought it on himself."

"How do you know?" asked Phil sharply. "Maybe there's something we don't understand."

"And we never will," added Tom bitterly. "I consider that Sid has done as much as any one to defeat the team if we lose the last game."

"Oh, don't think that. How's your hand?"

"Fine! I can last all right. It's the batting I'm worried about.

Langridge will do his worst, and we must look for a fierce game. We've got to practice until the gong rings."

Tom worked his men to the limit, with Coach Leighton to help him.

Matters seemed a little brighter, and in spite of his words Tom had a forlorn hope that, after all, the faculty might relent, and allow Sid to play.

But this hope was dashed to the ground the night before the game. Then Sid came into the room, despondency showing on his face and in every motion. He began hauling his things out of the closet and bureau, and packing them in his trunk.

"What's up, old man?" asked Phil in great surprise.

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" burst out Tom.

"Yes. Expelled. Faculty just had a meeting on my case, and it's all off.

I'm done!"

"Look here!" cried Tom. "Are you going to let it go this far, Sid?

Aren't you going to speak--going to tell your secret, and exonerate yourself?"

"I can't," answered Sid simply, and his tone was so miserable that his chums forebore to question him further. His trunk was soon packed, and he left the room. Neither Phil nor Tom felt like talking and went to bed early. Sid did not return that night, and the two ball players were out early, for practice on the diamond, in antic.i.p.ation of the great and deciding game which was to take place that afternoon on the Boxer Hall grounds.

A little before noon, when the team had gone to the gymnasium for a light dinner, and to have some last secret instruction from the coach and Tom, Sid Henderson crossed the college campus. With him was an individual whom, had Phil or Tom seen, they would have at once recognized as the sporty youth who had met Sid the day of the island picnic. But there was a great change noticed in the young man. He no longer wore the "loud" suit and the brilliant tie; he no longer smoked a cigarette, and there was a chastened air about him.

"Don't you feel a bit nervous about it, Guy?" asked Sid.

"Not a bit, old man. It's a bitter dose to swallow, but I need it, I guess. I wish I could do more for you. Are you sure it isn't too late?"

"I hope not. The team hasn't gone yet. There's just a chance."

"Well, I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. No one else would have done as much. No one else would have kept his promise in the face of such odds. It wasn't right for me to ask you."

"We agreed not to talk about that, you know, Guy."

"I can't help mentioning it. Lead on. I'll explain to Dr. Churchill, and all the rest of them."

The two disappeared into the doctor's residence, and, presently there might have been seen wending their way thither the various members of the Randall college faculty.

What took place occurred behind closed doors, and what that was, only was known afterward when Sid made his explanation. Sufficient, for the present, to say that the meeting was a protracted one, much to the restlessness of several of the younger professors who wanted to go to Boxer Hall to witness the championship struggle.

"Well, then, are we all agreed?" asked Dr. Churchill, as he smiled kindly on Sid, and regarded with a pitying glance the youth whom the second baseman had addressed as Guy.

"I think so," answered Professor Tines. "I seldom like to reverse myself, but I feel that it is warranted on this occasion. I will vote to remove the ban that has been on Mr. Henderson, and restore him to his full college rights and privileges."

"I think we all feel the same way," spoke Professor Bogardus, the science teacher, "and I am glad that I can change my vote."

"I think we all are," went on Dr. Churchill. "Mr. Henderson, I congratulate you, in the name of the college, for bearing up as you did, in the face of heavy odds. You are now a Soph.o.m.ore in good standing, and----"

"May I play on the team?" burst out Sid.

"You may," answered the genial old doctor, his eyes twinkling, "and I'll be there to see you win, at least for the last part of the game. The ban is removed, Mr. Henderson."

"Thank you, all," spoke Sid feelingly to the a.s.sembled professors. Then, turning to his companion, he added: "Come on, Guy. I'm going to get in the last game, after all."

"No, I'll not come. You've had enough of me. I'm going back to mother.

She--she needs me now," and the former sportily-attired lad turned away.

Sid hurried over to the gymnasium. His heart was beating in wild exultation. At last he was eligible to play on the nine! He could help them to win, for that Randall would lose never entered his head.

He reached the gymnasium. It seemed strangely deserted and quiet for a championship day. Sid felt a sense as if an icy hand was clutching his heart.

"Where--where's the ball nine?" he asked one of the janitors.

"The ball nine?"

"Yes."

Sid thought the man would never answer.

"Oh, the ball nine has gone over an hour," was the reply. "They went to Boxer Hall in a big automobile--a rubberneck they calls 'em."

"Gone! Over an hour!" gasped Sid. "Can I get there in time--in time to play? I must! I will! It's my last chance! Oh, I must get there!" and he started on a run for the trolley line that led to Boxer Hall.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

A PERILOUS CROSSING