The High School Pitcher Part 39

"Do you remember anything about it?"

"Yes, sir."

"What was it?"

"I believe the fellows voted that Mr. Grady, who is studying to be a lawyer, should represent us as counsel."

"Ah! I shall be very glad, then, to hear from Judge Grady," the princ.i.p.al dryly remarked.

"Judge" Grady bobbed up, smiling and confident---or he seemed so. As for the rest of the fellows, the princ.i.p.al's frigid coolness was beginning to get on their nerves.

"Mr. Princ.i.p.al," began Grady, thrusting his right band in between his vest b.u.t.tons, "the ill.u.s.trious, perhaps immortal Burke, once elucidated a principle that has since become historic, authoritative and illuminating. Among American and English jurists alike, Burke's principle has been accepted as akin to the organic law and the idea is that a community cannot be indicted."

It was a fine speech, for Grady had real genius in him, and this was the first chance he had ever had. The princ.i.p.al waited until the budding legal light had finished. Then Mr. Cantwell cleared his throat, to reply crisply:

"While I will not venture to gainsay Burke, and he is not here to be cross-examined, I will say that the indictment of the community, in this instance, would mean the expulsion of all the young men in the High School. To that form of sentence I do not lean.

A light form of punishment would be to prohibit absolutely the final baseball game of the school season. A sever form would be to withhold the diplomas of the young men of the graduating senior cla.s.s. I think it likely that both forms of punishment will be administered, but I shall not announce my decision to-day.

It will come later. The young men are dismissed." Clang!

Dismay would have been a mild name for what the fellows felt when they found themselves outside the building. Of the princ.i.p.al, in a rage they were little afraid. But when the princ.i.p.al controlled his temper he was a man in authority and of dangerous power.

After his own meal, and some scowling reflection, Mr. Cantwell set out to find his friend and backer in the Board of Education, Mr. Gadsby. That custodian of local education heard Mr. Cantwell through, after which he replied:

"Er---um----ah---my dear Cantwell, you can't very well prohibit the game, or talk of withholding diplomas from the young men of the graduating cla.s.s. Either course would make you tremendously unpopular. The people of Gridley would say that you were lacking in---era sense of humor."

"Sense of humor?" raged the princ.i.p.al, getting up and pacing the floor. "Is it humorous to have a lot of young rascals running all over one's authority?"

"Certainly not," responded Mr. Gadsby. "You should---er---preserve discipline."

"How am I to preserve discipline, if I can't inflict punishments?"

insisted Mr. Cantwell.

"But you should---er---that is---my dear Cantwell, you should make the punishments merely fit the crimes."

"In such an outrageous case as to-day's," fumed the princ.i.p.al, "what course would have been taken by the Dr. Thornton whom you are so fond of holding up to me as a man who knew how to handle boys?"

"Dr. Thornton," responded Mr. Gadsby, "would have been ingenious in his punishment. How long were the boys out, over recess time?"

"Twenty-five minutes."

"Then," returned Mr. Gadsby, "I can quite see Dr. Thorton informing the young men that they would be expected to remain at least five times as long after school as they had been improperly away from it. That is---er---ah---he would have sent for his own dinner, and would have eaten it at his desk, with scores of hungry young men looking on while their own dinners went cold. At three o'clock---perhaps---Dr. Thornton would have dismissed the offenders. It would be many a day before the boys would try anything of that sort again on good old Thornton. But you, my dear Cantwell, I am afraid you have failed to make the boys respect you at all times. The power of enforcing respect is the basis of all discipline."

"Then what shall I do with the young men this time?"

"Since you have---er---missed your opportunity, you---er---can do nothing, now, but let it pa.s.s. Let them imagine, from day to day, that sentence is still suspended and hovering over them."

Wily d.i.c.k Prescott had been to see Mr. Gadsby, just before the arrival of the princ.i.p.al. In his other capacity of reporter for "The Blade" the High School pitcher had said a few earnest words to his host. Mr. Gadsby, with his eye turned ever toward election day and the press, had been wholly willing to listen.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE AGONY OF THE LAST BIG GAME

"Ya, ya, ya! Ye gotter do somethings!"

This from Mr. Schimmelpodt. That gentleman was waving one of his short, fat arms wildly. It may as well be stated that from the smaller extremity of that arm, namely, his hand---a small crimson and gold banner attached to a stick cut circles in the air.

"Go to it, Gridley!"

"Get busy! You can't take a black eye at this end of the season."

Gridley High School with a season's record of one tied game and a long tally of victories, seemed now in dire straits.

Sides were changing for the last half of the ninth inning.

Gridley had taken seven runs. Wayland High School, with six runs already to their credit, was now going to bat for the last inning unless the score should be tied.

The perfect June day, just before commencement, had brought out a host. Wayland had sent nearly four hundred people. The total attendance was past four thousand paid admissions.

Herr Schimmelpodt, who, since his first enthusiasm, had not missed a game, was now among the most concerned.

The band was there, but silent. The leader knew that, in this state of affairs the spectators wanted to make the noise themselves.

"Oh, you d.i.c.k!"

"Strike 'em out as fast as they come up."

"Save Gridley!"

"Aw, let somebody have a game," roared a voice from the Wayland seats, "and we need this one!"

"Prescott, remember the record!"

"No defeats this year!"

"Don't give us one, now!"

d.i.c.k & Co. were in full force on the nine today. True, Dave Darrin sat only on the sub bench to-day, but he was ready to give relief at any moment if Gridley's beloved pitcher, Prescott, went under.

Holmes was out in left field; Hazelton was the nimble shortstop; Dalzell pranced at the first bag on the diamond; Tom Reade was eternally vigilant on second base.

Gridley's High School girls, devoted feminine fans as any in the world, were breathing soft and fast now. If only d.i.c.k, backed at need by the outfield, could keep Wayland from scoring further, then all was well. If Wayland should score even once in this inning, it would make a tie and call for a tenth inning. If Wayland scored twice---but that was too nerve-racking to contemplate.

Then a hush fell. The umpire had called for play.