Dick Prescotts's Fourth Year at West Point Part 28

Yet Durville had his own work to do honestly. He must pound this easy one and drive it as far as he could.

Durville swung and let go. But just as he did so---that ball dropped!

It pa.s.sed on a level two feet below the swinging stick, and Greg, with a quiet grin, neatly mitted it.

"Good!" muttered Coach Lawrence under his breath. "Got any more like that, Prescott?" he called.

"I think I have a few, sir, when I get my arm warmed up and limbered,"

d.i.c.k admitted.

"Take your time, then. Don't knock your arm out of shape."

Again Greg was signaling, though the signal was so difficult to catch that many of the onlookers wondered if Holmes really had signaled.

Swish---ew---ew---zip!

Again Durville had fanned truly, though nothing but air. The outshoot had seemed to spring lazily around, just out of reach of the end of his stick.

Now, every member of the squad, and all of the spectators were beginning to take keen notice.

"Slowly, Prescott. Take your time between," admonished Lieutenant Lawrence, who knew how easily a pitcher out of training might wrench his muscles and go stale for several days.

Greg had signaled for what had once been one of his chum's best---a modification of the "jump ball" that had cost this young pitcher much hard study and arm-strain.

As d.i.c.k stood ready to let go of the ball he seemed inclined to dawdle over it. It wasn't going to be one of his snappiest---any onlooker could judge that, at least, so it seemed.

Even Durville was fooled, though he did not let up much in the way of alertness.

Now the ball came on, with not much speed or steam behind it.

Durville took a good look, made some calculation for possible deception, then made his swing with the stick.

Slightly forward Durville had to bend, in order to get low enough to make the crack.

As his bat swished half lazily through the air, Durville "ducked"

suddenly, for the upbounding ball had gone so close to his ear as to seem bent on removing some of the skin off that member.

Greg, who had been stooping, was up in time to mit the ball.

Then Durville, his face flushing, heard Holmes chuckle.

"One or two more, if you like, sir," called d.i.c.k, facing the coach.

"But I think, sir, I'd better be in finer trim before I do too much tossing in one afternoon."

"You've done enough, Prescott," cried Lieutenant Lawrence, stepping forward and resting one hand cordially on d.i.c.k's shoulder.

"Train with us for a fortnight, and you'll take all the hide off of the Navy's mascot goat."

There was a laugh from the members of the squad who stood within hearing. But, as d.i.c.k Prescott and Greg Holmes walked over to the side of the field they were greeted by a cheer from all who had watched their performance.

"I'm very glad you asked for a further trial for Prescott," murmured Lieutenant Lawrence to the captain of the Army nine.

"I thought you would be, sir," Durville replied.

"We have a line-up, after these two men have been trained into shape, that will make one of the strongest Army nines in a generation."

"We'd have tanned the Navy last year, sir," ventured Durville, "if we had known what material we had in Prescott and Holmes, and had been able to get them out."

At cadet mess that evening the talk ran high with joy. West Point was sure it had found its baseball gait!

CHAPTER XVII

READY FOR THE ARMY-NAVY GAME

In between times, in the strenuous hours that followed, d.i.c.k found the time, somehow, to write two letters of moment.

One was to his mother, the other to Laura Bentley. In both he told how the last bar to his happiness in the Army had been removed.

Yet d.i.c.k did not go very deeply into details. He merely explained that the cla.s.s had discovered, on indisputable evidence, that he had been dealt with unjustly. He made it plain, however, that he was now again in high favor with his cla.s.s, and that he had even been honored by reelection to the cla.s.s presidency.

"Greg, you send Dave Darrin a short note for me, will you?" begged d.i.c.k, as he toiled away at the missive to Laura. "Old Dave will want only the bare facts; that will be enough for him. He'll cheerfully wait for details until some time when we're all graduated and meet in the service."

Dave Darrin's reply was short, but characteristic:

"Of course dear old d.i.c.k came through all right! He's the kind of fellow that always does and always must come through all right---otherwise there'd be no particular use in being manly."

No word came from the missing Jordan. Truth to tell, no one seemed to care, outside of the young man's father. It is rare, indeed, that a cadet deserts, and when he does, unless he has taken government property with him, no effort is made to find him.

By the end of the week, d.i.c.k Prescott was the hope of the Army nine, as he had once been of the eleven.

A cadet is always in condition. His daily training keeps him there.

So d.i.c.k had only to give his arm a little extra work, increasing it some each day.

"Do you think I'm going to be in satisfactory shape, sir?" d.i.c.k asked the Army coach Friday afternoon.

"If something doesn't happen to you, Prescott, you're going to be the strongest, speediest pitcher I've ever seen on the Army nine," replied Lieutenant Lawrence.

"Isn't that saying a good deal, sir?"

"Yes; but you're the sort of athlete that one may say a great deal about," replied Lieutenant Lawrence, with a confident smile.

"And Mr. Holmes is very nearly as good a man as you are."

"I always thought him fully as good, even better," replied Prescott.

"There isn't much to choose between you," admitted coach. "I wish we could always look for such men on our Army teams."

"You can one of these days, sir."