Fast Nine Part 17

When Cobb had also fanned at most unreasonable b.a.l.l.s, that could never have been hit, his comrades stared at each other. There was a hasty conference. Then Matt Tubbs was observed to say something to the next batter, Poole.

Elmer smiled broadly at Mark, and nodded. It was just as though he had remarked the words: "It's all off, Mark, they've finally caught on to the fact that we've switched our signals. And now to play a different brand of ball!"

That was exactly what the Fairfield players had decided. When such batters made guys of themselves trying to meet b.a.l.l.s that never came where they expected to find them, the truth could not long remain hidden. And now Tubbs had told his players to forget entirely everything they had learned from Lon Braddock. They must depend on their own judgment of b.a.l.l.s, and nothing else.

Poole struck a vicious one, but it fell foul clearly enough, so that there was no chance for any disputing the umpire's decision.

"See that!" exclaimed a spectator; "they're getting his size already. If that had only landed fair it would have been a two-bagger."

Elmer realized that the time had already come to play the game. The next one he sent in was with exactly the same movement that he used to shoot a cannon-ball express over the rubber; yet it hung there in the air in the most exasperating manner, pa.s.sing over the plate long after Poole had struck.

Then arose a tremendous shout as the crowd became aware of the fact that Elmer had disclosed his long suit--that tantalizing floating drop by which Matthewson long ago won his fame on the diamond.

"Get that, did you, partner!" laughed the Hickory Ridge backer, turning to the adherent of the rival nine. "Now you'll see who's going to do the eating out of hand business. Before the ninth inning comes he'll have your fellows breaking their poor old backs trying to connect with that dead one. Just wait, and see the fun!"

Poole did not get on base, but perished on a feeble little infield hit that Lil Artha gobbled close to the bag, prancing back with ease.

"Gee, look at that daddy-long-legs, will you!" shouted an amazed Fairfield rooter, as he stared at the way Lil Artha got over the ground.

"Hey, if he ever gets his base he c'n just _step_ down to second! No cutting him off by a throw."

McDowd, the center fielder, generally a reliable batter, did succeed in making a hit, the ball just eluding the fingers of Red at short, as he jumped up in the air, hoping to make a dazzling stop.

But it did him no good. Elmer just toyed with Mulligan, and after feeding him two swift curves with which he could not connect, he gave him one of those lovely slow b.a.l.l.s. Now Mulligan was a crafty chap, and he saw what was coming. Thinking to have the laugh on Elmer, he declined to strike; and was already grinning with joy over his smartness, when the ball seemed to receive a new impetus somehow, and went jumping by.

"Batter's out!" declared the umpire; at which Mulligan dashed his bat down, and walked away, also shaking his head.

The crowd yelled like mad. This was work well worth coming miles to see.

"He's got them all guessing," shouted Larry Billings, who was also in uniform as a subst.i.tute. "If they strike at it, they fan the air; and if they hold off the umpire says 'get out!' It's a cold, cruel world, Fairfield!"

Red was first to face Tubbs in their half of the second. He waited until he had two strikes and three b.a.l.l.s called; and then, knowing that the pitcher in nine cases out of ten tries to put one straight over, Red lined it out for a single.

Ty stepped up with a firm manner, and gripped his bat as though he meant business. He spoiled several good ones by knocking long fouls, and finally walked. As two were now on bases with n.o.body out, the chances for a tally looked good to the Hickory Ridge fellows.

Amid a chorus of shouts Matty stepped up and, hitting the first ball a tremendous swipe, sent it speeding through the air. Everybody jumped up to see where it went.

They saw the agile Felix Wagner near second make a leap upward. As he came down he whirled, and sent the ball into second; and Mulligan, who had darted thither was just like lightning in getting it down to first.

Red and Ty were thus caught between bases and a most brilliant triple play had been accomplished.

"Why, he caught it!" gasped the Hickory Ridge enthusiast, as though unable to believe the evidence of his eyes.

"You just bet he did," mocked the other fellow. "And the whole side's out in two shakes of the lamb's tail. Zip, bang, splash; and it's all over! That's the way we do it."

The crowd went fairly wild, even the people from Hickory Ridge joining in the applause that greeted this clever play.

And so the game went on, both sides struggling like giants for an opening; yet the third, fourth and fifth innings pa.s.sed with no one getting past that fatal second.

The first half of the sixth opened with Fairfield looking dangerous.

Elmer had pa.s.sed Wagner, it being the first time he had given anyone transportation on four b.a.l.l.s. Cook went out on three strikes, being led to bite at a slow one in the critical moment. Bastian hit for a single, and by clever running Wagner managed to reach third.

The crowd sat up and began to figure on a run, as there was only one man out, and almost any kind of a fly would allow Wagner to come in.

But they counted without their host. Cobb failed to do anything, also going out on the three-strike route. And Poole shot one straight for Red at short, who gathered it up in fine shape, getting the ball to first ahead of the runner.

A sigh went up from the great crowd. With the Fairfield rooters it signified despair; while those who were backing the other team expressed their relief that Elmer had managed to get out of a hole successfully.

"Now, fellows, it's time we did something," remarked Lil Artha, as the boys settled down on the ground, and Toby was selecting his bat, it being his turn to toe the rubber.

"Right you are, old hoss," remarked that worthy, grimly. "We've tried Matt Tubbs out, and got his wrinkles down pat. Just keep your eyes on me, and see if I don't flatten out one of his benders for keeps!"

"More power to your elbow, Toby," said Lil Artha. "Just get your base somehow, and depend on me to chase you in."

"And he can do it, Toby," declared Chatz, as the batter pa.s.sed him.

"Yes, I've just got to, boys," chuckled the tall captain, as his eye roved out toward that particular place where Elmer had told him to aim; just as though he might be picking a good spot to land his ball.

CHAPTER XV.

LIL ARTHA PLANTS HIS GARDEN IN DEEP CENTER.

"CRACK!"

"He did it!" yelled the Hickory Ridge fellows, as Toby started on a run for the first sack, while Bastian was chasing the ball in short right.

"Bully boy, Toby! You're IT!" shrieked an excited rooter, jumping up and down as he swung his hat, and ending by dancing a hornpipe, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of some of the crowd, though a disgusted Cramertown fellow loudly advised him to "hire a hall."

"Now Lil Artha, you know what to do!" called a fellow near by.

"Does he!" echoed Larry Billings, waving his hand at the speaker. "Well, just keep your eye on him, that's all. Oh, it's good-by to that ball.

It's going over into the next county!"

The tall captain of the Hickory Ridge nine stood at the plate in what some people considered a careless att.i.tude.

"Why, he doesn't seem to care whether he hits the ball or not," they declared. "I think Matt Tubbs ought to have a snap with that bean pole!"

But every batter has his favorite way of waiting for the ball. Some swing their bats nervously, and often fail to recover in time; others stand there like statues, with every nerve contracted, and their eyes fixed on the pitcher.

Lil Artha did neither. He chopped at the tuft of short gra.s.s near the rubber, nodded at Tubbs, and then slouched there in his ungainly att.i.tude. But Matt Tubbs was not deceived in the least. He knew that in Lil Artha he had the most dangerous batter in the entire nine to contend with. His movements were like lightning, once he started.

One, two, three b.a.l.l.s followed in rapid succession.

"Hey, he's afraid of Lil Artha! he's goin' to give him his base!" arose the shout.

It looked very much that way, and Lil Artha himself feared that he was about to be cheated out of his chance for that little garden beyond right center. Those agile Fairfield fellows must be thinking that triple plays grow on bushes; and the pitcher was hoping to have another pulled off.