Rival Pitchers of Oakdale Part 13

"It's only a matter of an extra inning," cried Copley. "They've had all their luck; it's over."

Crane, following Eliot, made the mistake of trying for a long hit, and Sanger fanned him.

Grant came up with two men out.

"Here's the great cowboy twirler, cap," sneered Copley. "Put the iron to him. Burn your brand deep."

"Get a hit, Grant--do get a hit!" came the entreaty from the Oakdale crowd.

"If you do," muttered Copley, close under the bat, "I'll swallow the ball."

A moment later Rod swung at a corner cutter, whirled all the way round, and sprang at Copley, a look of such blazing wrath in his eyes that the red-headed catcher retreated with ludicrous haste.

"You onery, sheep-herding skunk!" rasped the Texan. "If you touch my bat again, I'll grease the ground with you! They'll sure carry you home on a stretcher, and you can bet your life on that!"

Again the umpire had not seen the interference, so cleverly had Copley perpetrated the trick. Eliot dashed at Grant and seized him, shouting for the Oakdale crowd to keep back; for at least twenty indignant persons were moving toward the diamond. There was a temporary delay, during which Roger spoke earnestly into Grant's ear.

"Don't lose your head now, old fellow," pleaded the Oakdale captain.

"That's what he wants you to do. He thinks you can't hit the ball if you're mad."

"I reckon you're right," said Rodney, getting a grip on himself; "but he'll sure have a broken head if he does it again."

Having seen that look of rage in the Texan's eyes, Newt Copley was not at all disposed to repeat the trick with him. Apparently Grant's nerves had been somewhat unstrung, for when the game was again resumed he missed one of Sanger's shoots by something like a foot, and the second strike was called by the umpire. Then Rod smiled; it was barely a faint flicker, but Sanger saw it and wondered. His wonderment turned to dismay when the Texan skillfully poked a safety through the infield and went romping to first, cheered by the crowd.

"Never mind, cap," encouraged Copley; "the weak ones follow. You won't have any trouble with this undersized accident." A remark which inflamed Cooper, in spite of Chipper's pretense that he did not hear it.

On the very first ball handed up to the Oakdale shortstop, Grant, having got a start, raced down the line to second, slid spikes first, and was declared safe, Copley failing to get the ball to Roberts in time for a put-out.

But the Texan did not stop there. With Sanger's next movement of his regular delivery, Rodney, having got a lead behind the pitcher's back, went darting toward third. Copley, who had complained that Roberts was slow about tagging the runner, uttered a yell, took the ball as it came high above Cooper's shoulders, and lost no time in throwing to third.

Pratt had not antic.i.p.ated an immediate second effort to steal by the runner, and he was a trifle slow about covering the sack. As a result, he was forced to reach for the ball with his bare right hand, and he dropped it.

The home crowd was on its feet now, shouting wildly as the umpire's downward gesture with both hands proclaimed the daring Texan safe at third.

Copley snarled at Pratt, and Sanger plainly showed that the performance of Grant had put him on the anxious seat.

The cheering now was incessant from both sides of the field, and this was not calculated to soothe the nerves of the worried pitcher.

Nevertheless, had not Berry lost his head and forgotten that two were out, the game would have gone into extra innings. Cooper finally drove one toward the Barville shortstop, and Berry, leaping forward to catch the ball, saw Grant dashing toward the plate. Berry should have thrown to first, but, with his mind temporarily fogged, his only thought was to stop that run, and he hurled the ball to the plate. Copley was not prepared for this manoeuvre, and he leaped to get the whistling sphere, which, however, came high and wide, forcing him to reach for it.

The umpire had barely time to run forward a short distance ere he stopped and crouched as Grant flung himself headlong in a slide.

Getting the ball, Copley swung back to tag the runner, but ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate.]

"Safe!" shouted the umpire.

And the game was won by the pitcher who had taken Springer's place in the fifth inning.

CHAPTER XIII.

RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY.

Like one stunned Roy Hooker pa.s.sed out through the gate and turned down the street, dully conscious of the continued rejoicing uproar behind him. Alternately buoyed by hope and weighted by fear, he had pa.s.sed the most trying hour of his life, and now in his bosom he carried a heart that seemed sick and faint and scarcely able to pump the blood through his veins.

"I was a fool to listen to Rackliff," he muttered; and over and over he kept repeating, "I was a fool, a fool!"

Suddenly apprehensive lest he should be overtaken by some one who might observe his all-too-evident wretchedness, he quickened his steps and made straight for his home. He did not enter the house, and as he slipped through the yard he cast sidelong glances toward the windows, hoping his mother might not be looking out. In the carriage house he sat down on the box beside his motorcycle.

"I was a fool--an awful fool!" he kept repeating.

Presently, his mind running over the game, feature by feature, he began to realize that he had not felt as much elation as he would have supposed might come to him on witnessing Springer's misfortune in the fifth inning. He had imagined it would afford him unreserved exultation to see Phil batted out of the box, but his rejoicing had been most remarkably alloyed by an emotion of another sort, which even now he could not understand. And, as he sat there, slowly but surely he began to perceive the real reason for Springer's failure.

"It was lack of control," he finally exclaimed. "That's just it. He was pitching all right until they broke his nerve by three hits in succession. After that he couldn't find the pan to save his life. If he'd been able to put the ball where he wished and steady down a little, he might have stopped that batting rally and had the satisfaction of pitching the game through to a successful finish. Now, Rod Grant gets all the glory."

He was still sitting there, obsessed by his dismal meditations, when a shadow appeared in the doorway, and he looked up to see Rackliff, the stub of a cigarette in his fingers, gazing at him. For a full minute, perhaps, neither boy spoke; and then Herbert, tossing the smoking stub over his shoulder, sunk his hands deep in his pockets and uttered two words:

"Hard luck."

"Rotten," said Roy. "But you certainly were all to the punk in your judgment about that game."

"Oh, I don't know," objected Herbert, leaning against the side of the doorway and crossing his tan-shod feet. "Barville should have won."

"How do you make that out?"

"They batted Springer out, didn't they? They sent him to the stable, all right."

"He lost his control, and Eliot had to take him out."

"Well, if you hadn't been mistaken in your judgment, that would have settled the game."

"If _I_ hadn't been mistaken!" cried Roy resentfully.

"Precisely."

"Why, I don't see----"

"Don't you? Then you should consult an oculist. You said Springer was the only pitcher the team had; you insisted that Grant couldn't pitch a winning game."

"Well, I know," faltered Roy; "but I----"

"You were mistaken--sadly mistaken. It's been an expensive blunder in judgment for both of us."

A flush rose into Hooker's pale cheeks, and he stood up. "Now, look here, Mr. Rackliff," he said harshly, "don't you try to shoulder it all on to me. I won't stand for that. You professed to be dead sure that under any circ.u.mstances Barville could down Oakdale. As to the matter of expense, it may have been expensive for you', but, according to our distinctly understood agreement, I don't lose anything."

Herbert lifted his eyebrows slightly, producing his cigarette case and fumbling in it vainly, as it was empty.