Bert Wilson's Fadeaway Ball Part 16

"Gee, what a machine," breathed Bert, and stood a moment in mute admiration. The automobile was of the very latest pattern, and was the finest product of an eminent maker. The sun sparkled on its polished enamel and bra.s.s work. But Bert had no eyes for these details. He raised the hood and carefully inspected the engine. Then he peered into the gasoline and oil tanks, and found both plentifully supplied.

"All right," he announced, after this inspection. "Pile in someway, and we'll get a move on. What time is it, Tom?"

"Just twenty-five minutes of two," announced Tom, after consulting his watch. "I hope we don't get arrested for speeding, that's all. This reminds me of the old 'Red Scout' days, doesn't it you, d.i.c.k?"

"It sure does," agreed the latter, with a reminiscent smile. "We'll have to go mighty fast to break the records we made then, won't we, old sock?" slapping Bert on the shoulder.

"That's what," agreed Bert, as he cranked the motor.

The big engine coughed once or twice, and then settled down into a contented purring. Bert threw in the reverse and backed out of the garage. He handled the big car with practised hands, and Reddy, who had been watching him carefully, drew a sigh of relief. "I guess he knows his business, all right," he reflected, and settled back on the luxurious cushions of the tonneau. The car was packed pretty solidly, you may be sure, and everyone seated on the cushions proper had somebody else perched on his lap. This did not matter, however, and everybody was too excited to feel uncomfortable.

As they pa.s.sed the porch, they stopped, and Mrs. Clarke, who had been waiting to see them off, gave Bert directions on how to find the main road. "Follow the road in front of the house due south for about half or three-quarters of a mile," she said, "and then turn to your left on the broad, macadam road that you will see at about this point. That will take you without a break to D----. Be careful of that car, though," she said to Bert, "I'm almost afraid of it, it's so very powerful."

"It will need all its power to-day," said Bert, smiling, and they all said good-bye to Mrs. Clarke. Then Bert slipped in the clutch, and the big car glided smoothly out on the road in front of the house, and in a very short time they came to the main road of which Mrs. Clarke had spoken.

"Now, Bert, let her rip," said d.i.c.k, who was in the seat beside our hero. Bert did.

Little by little he opened the throttle till the great machine was rushing along the smooth road at terrific speed. Faster and faster they flew. The wind whistled in their ears, and all who were not holding on to their caps lost them. There was no time to stop for such a trivial item, and indeed n.o.body even thought of such a thing. To get to the game, that was the main thing. Also, the l.u.s.t of speed had entered their hearts, and while they felt horribly afraid at the frightful pace, there was a certain mad pleasure in it, too. The speedometer needle crept up and up, till it touched the sixty-mile-an-hour mark. Reddy wanted to tell Bert to slacken speed, but feared that the boys would think he was "scared," so said nothing. Bert's heart thrilled, and the blood pounded madly through his veins. His very soul called for speed, speed! and he gradually opened the throttle until it would go no further. The great car responded n.o.bly, and strained madly ahead. The whirring gears hummed a strident tune, and the explosions from the now open m.u.f.fler sounded in an unbroken roar. The pa.s.sengers in the machine grew dizzy, and some were forced to close their eyes to protect them from the rushing, tearing wind. The fields on both sides streaked away in back of them like a vari-colored ribbon, and the gray road seemed leaping up to meet them. The speedometer hand pointed to eighty miles an hour, and now there was a long decline in front of them. The boys thought that then Bert would surely reduce the power somewhat, but apparently no such thought entered his mind. Down the long slope they swooped, and then--What was that in front of them, that they were approaching at such terrific speed? At a glance Bert saw that it consisted of two farm wagons traveling along toward them at a snail's pace, their drivers engaged in talk, and oblivious of the road in front of them. Bert touched the siren lever, and a wild shriek burst from the tortured siren. The drivers gave one startled glance at the flying demon approaching them, and then started to draw up their horses to opposite sides of the road. They seemed fairly to crawl and Bert felt an awful contraction of his heart. What if they could not make it? He knew that it would have been folly to apply the brakes at the terrific speed at which they were traveling, and his only chance lay in going between the two wagons.

Slowly--slowly--the wagons drew over to the side of the road, and Bert calculated the distance with straining eyes. His hands gripped the wheel until his knuckles stood out white and tense.

Now they were upon the wagons--and through! A vision of rearing horses, excited, gesticulating drivers--and they were through, with a scant half foot to spare on either side.

A deep sigh went up from the pa.s.sengers in the car, and tense muscles were relaxed. Gradually, little by little, Bert reduced the speed until they were traveling at a mere forty miles an hour, which seemed quiet, safe and slow, after their recent hair-raising pace. Reddy pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, which was beaded with perspiration.

"We looked death in the face that time," he declared, gravely. "I never expected to get out of that corner alive. If we had hit one of those wagons, it would have been all up with us. For heaven's sake, Wilson, take it a little easier in the future, will you? I don't want to decorate a marble slab in the morgue just yet awhile."

Tom pulled out his watch, and found that it was after two o'clock. "We can't be far from the town now," he declared. "I'll bet that's it, where you see the steeple over there in the distance."

"That's what it is," chimed in several of the others, who had been to the town before; "we'll get there with time to spare."

The intervening mile or so was covered in a jiffy, and the car entered the town. Almost immediately they were recognized by some in the crowd, and were greeted with cheers. A couple of young fellows whom they knew jumped up on the running-board as Bert slowed down for them.

"Gee," said one, "there's some cla.s.s to you fellows, all right, all right. It isn't every baseball team that can travel around the country in a giddy buzz wagon like the one you have there. Who belongs to it, anyway?"

"Oh, it's too long a story to tell now," said the trainer. "We'll tell you all about it after the game. It's about time we were starting in to practise a little."

They soon arrived at the grounds, and were greeted by an ovation. The news of the wreck had just been telegraphed in, and the spectators had been a sorely disappointed lot until the arrival of the car bearing the Blues. The news had spread over the field, and some of the spectators had started to leave, thinking that, of course, there would be no game.

These soon returned, however, and settled down to see the struggle.

It would seem as though the Blues would have little energy left after such an exciting day as they had pa.s.sed through, but such is the wonderful elasticity and recuperative powers of youth, that they played one of the snappiest games of the season, and after a hotly contested fight won out by a score of four to two.

As they returned to the clubhouse after the game, they were surprised beyond measure to see Mr. Clarke waiting for them. He greeted them with a smile, and shook hands all around with his uninjured arm.

"I caught the first train that went through," he explained, "and got here in time to see the last inning. You fellows put up a cracker-jack game, and I think you are an honor to the old college. It was a wonder you did not lose. After what you have been through to-day I should not have been a bit surprised or disappointed."

They thanked him for his kind speech, and then nothing would do but that they must have supper with him at the most expensive hotel in town.

Needless to say, this meal was done ample justice, and when Mr. Clarke informed them that he had hired rooms for them for the night the announcement was greeted with a cheer.

"I have telegraphed home, so n.o.body will be worried about you," he said.

"They know you're in safe hands," and his eyes twinkled.

It was a tired lot of athletes that tumbled up to bed that night, and soon they were sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of healthy exhaustion.

CHAPTER XI

THE NINTH INNING

The morning of the all-important day on which the Blues and Maroons were to lock horns in order that the pennant question might be finally settled dawned gloriously. There was not a cloud in the sky and scarcely a breath of wind stirring. A storm two days before had cooled the air and settled the dust, and altogether a finer day for the deciding struggle could not have been imagined.

The game was to be played on the enemy's grounds, and that, of course, gave them a great advantage. This was further increased by the fact that it was Commencement Week, and from all parts of the country great throngs of the old graduates had been pouring for days into the little town that held so large a place in their memories and affections. They could be depended on to a man to be present that afternoon, rooting with all their might and yelling their heads off to encourage the home team.

However, they would not have it all their own way in that matter, although of course they would be in the majority. The train that brought Bert and his comrades on the day before was packed with wildly enthusiastic supporters, and a whole section of the grandstand would be reserved for them. They had rehea.r.s.ed their songs and cheers and were ready to break loose at any time on the smallest provocation and "make Rome howl." And, as is the way of college rooters, they had little doubt that when they took the train for home they would carry their enemies'

scalps at their belts. They would have mobbed anybody for the mere suggestion that their favorites could lose.

They packed the hotel corridors with an exuberant and hilarious crowd that night that "murdered sleep" for any one within earshot, and it was in the "wee, sma' hours" when they at last sought their beds, to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' sleep and dream of the great game on the morrow. Not so the team themselves, however. They had been carried away to a secluded suite, where after a good supper and a little quiet chat in which baseball was not permitted to intrude, they were tucked away in their beds by their careful trainer and by ten o'clock were sleeping soundly.

At seven the next morning they were astir, and, after a substantial breakfast, submitted themselves to "Reddy's" rubdown and ma.s.sage, at the conclusion of which their bodies were glowing, their eyes bright, and they felt "fine as silk," in Reddy's phrase, and ready for anything. It was like getting a string of thoroughbreds thoroughly groomed and sending them to the post fit to race for a kingdom. To keep them from dwelling on the game, Reddy took them for a quiet stroll in the country, returning only in time for a leisurely though not hearty dinner, after which they piled into their 'bus and started for the ball field.

As they drove into the carriage gate at the lower end of the field they fairly gasped at the sight that met their eyes. They had never played before such a tremendous crowd as this. Grandstands and bleachers, the whole four sides of the field were packed with tier upon tier of noisy and jubilant rooters. Old "grads," pretty girls and their escorts waving flags, singing songs, cheering their favorites, shouting their cla.s.s cries, made a picture that, once seen, could never be forgotten.

"Some crowd, all right," said d.i.c.k to Bert, as they came out on the field for preliminary practise.

"Yes," said Bert, "and nine out of ten of them expect and hope to see us lose. We must put a crimp in that expectation, from the stroke of the gong."

"And we will, too," a.s.serted Tom, confidently, "they never saw the day when they were a better team than ours, and it's up to our boys to prove it to them, right off the reel."

"How does your arm feel to-day?" asked d.i.c.k. "Can you mow them down in the good old way, if you go in the box?"

"Never felt better in my life," rejoined Bert. "I feel as though I could pitch all day if necessary."

"That sounds good," said d.i.c.k, throwing his arm over Bert's shoulder.

"If that's the way you feel, we've got the game sewed up already."

"Don't be too sure, old man," laughed Bert. "You'd better 'knock wood.'

We've seen too many good things go wrong to be sure of anything in this world of chance. By the way," he went on, "who is that fellow up near our bench? There's something familiar about him. By George, it's Ainslee," and they made a rush toward the stalwart figure that turned to meet them with a smile of greeting.

"In the name of all that's lucky," cried d.i.c.k, as he grasped his hand and shook it warmly, "how did you manage to get here? I thought you were with your team at Pittsburgh. There's no man on earth I'd rather see here to-day."

"Well," returned the coach, his face flushing with pleasure at the cordial greeting, "I pitched yesterday, and as it will be two or three days before my turn in the box comes round again, I made up my mind it was worth an all-night's journey to come up here and see you whale the life out of these fellows. Because of course that's what you're going to do, isn't it? You wouldn't make me spend all that time and money for nothing, would you?" he grinned.

"You bet we won't," laughed d.i.c.k, "just watch our smoke."

The presence of the coach was an inspiration, and they went on for their fifteen minutes' practise with a vim and snap that sobered up the over-confident rooters on the other side. Their playing fairly sparkled, and some of the things put across made the spectators catch their breath.