Radio Boys Loyalty Part 13

"Listen to this, Siebold." Dixon leaned over the table. "Brown says we've got pitching material----"

"Well, what of it? Don't I know it?"

"It's a blamed sure bet he doesn't know it, or if he does he ought to be jailed for conspiracy to beat the school team," laughed Bill, still addressing Dixon.

"How's that, Brown? What's your dope?" ventured Sadler, who alone really dared to question Siebold's authority. Bill went on, in forcible language, for he was aware that Siebold was listening, and repeated what he had said to Mr. Gay and to Dixon. The argument about every one in the school being interested in the success of the ball team seemed to strike home, and several boys gathering round began to make comments favorable to the sentiment. The librarian came over and objected to the talking.

"Let's go down to the gym and talk this thing over," said Sadler. "Brown will spring this man on us if we'll try him--eh, Brown?"

"Why, sure," said Bill, rising.

"Come on, Siebold."

"Too busy reading. Nothing to it, anyway." Siebold didn't even look up from his book.

"Is that so?" Sadler was angry. It was evident that he was willing to oppose the captain. Bill thought he saw an opportunity right here.

"He has only one vote," he said, "and I understand that all of us who care to may have a say. I know several fellows who----"

Bill got no further. Siebold began to see that it might be best to permit no defection from his ranks and no outside interference. He followed the others out and across the campus, no word being said all the way by the several boys who, in part, made up the executive committee on baseball. They filed into the gym and got Mr. Gay into their conference.

"Now, then, Brown, what have you got under your skin?" said Siebold testily.

"You heard me in the library," said Bill.

"Balderdas.h.!.+ There isn't a fellow in the school who can pitch like Maxwell."

"Oh, yes, there is, Siebold," said Mr. Gay. "There's no one who can play first base like Maxwell and your first baseman says he has a gla.s.s arm and is done. We have a pitcher who can pitch."

"That's the cheese!" said Maxwell. "I've told Siebold all along he ought to replace me."

"Who is this wonderful guy?" asked Siebold.

"I'll bet it's that other fellow from Freeport," put in one of the captain's staunch supporters.

"Call it off in that case," Siebold demanded.

"No, we won't call it off. We'll try him at practice," said Sadler.

"Who's captain of this team? We'll play in our present positions, all of us, or we won't play at all."

"That's right," echoed two or three followers. Bill laughed.

"Will you accept a challenge to play a school scrub team?"

"No, nor that. Waste of time----"

"That's nothing but silly stubbornness," said Sadler, with rising wrath.

"Wouldn't it be just like practice? You're a fatheaded----"

"Oh, now, see here, Siebold," interposed the instructor. "You can't refuse that. It will only bring out the best players and strengthen the team."

"Well, then, if Mr. Gay says so," Siebold agreed, "we'll play you and we can shut out any bunch you can get together."

CHAPTER XIX

A SHUT-OUT

Bill turned to Sadler. "You're with us?"

"Sure, Siebold has a subst.i.tute for right field."

"I'm with you, too," said Dixon. "Put Longy in my place, Cap."

Siebold grew angry. "You fellows have been kickers all along, and now you think that will weaken us. Well, if Ritter can't take a fly better than you can, you big stiff, I'll a.s.sa.s.sinate him; and Long is as good a short stop as you are, Dixon."

"We have four other subst.i.tutes and I'll promise three of them for our scrub team, Brown," Sadler declared.

"All right; that's seven fellows and we can pick up two more, surely.

Let's hunt them up right now," demanded Bill.

They did. As it was clearing, they went to the diamond and after a little practice all round at town ball, Bill watching closely, they got into the places best suited to each player and then elected Bill manager and Sadler captain. The big fellow and Dixon had discarded their suits for plain s.h.i.+rt and trousers, and a small collection was taken up for pants and some extra gloves. Mr. Gay gave them a catcher's mask and some bats.

The next afternoon, the challenge having been formally given, the match between the regulars and scrubs took place, Siebold winning the toss and taking the bases, Mr. Gay acted as umpire.

Maxwell seemed to be in better form than usual. Perhaps because he found a "ragged lot of players," as Bill put it. The scrubs had not fully got together and they went out, two on strikes, and Sadler's fly was caught.

The regulars went to bat, laughing, Siebold straddling the plate.

Gus stood in the box, smiling. He nodded to little Kerry behind the bat and Kerry inclined his head to the left. Sadler and Dixon were watching closely. Could the new pitcher on whom Brown appeared to stake so much really do anything? If he could send them over the way he boxed, thought Sadler, "good night"! Brown was all the time springing something worth while. That was just why he and Dixon had been willing to make a final kick at Siebold's arbitrary rulings. And now here was Siebold himself, one of the surest batters in the team, facing the unknown quant.i.ty.

Gus put on no gimcracks nor did he make fancy swings. He merely made a step forward, raised his arm to throw and held it about two seconds--then there came across the plate something more like a streak than a ball--so it seemed to Siebold--and little Kerry, who had been squatting, nearly went over backward with the loud plop in his glove. Siebold stood, dazed.

"One strike!" called the umpire.

The ball went back to Gus who took it out of the air as if he were plucking at a snowflake. Again the step forward, the raised arm and the ball came along swiftly at first, then slower, much slower, but keeping up. Siebold's heart sang. He would take this thing on the end of his bat and lift it beyond any hopes of a fielder's reaching it--it meant a two-bagger sure. He struck; there was no contact of bat and ball; a fraction of a second later the sound of the ball in Kerry's glove told him he had "missed it by a mile," as Sadler bawled it out.

"Two strikes!"

Siebold looked mad now. He was being tricked--that was certain. He would show this fellow if he could do that again! The ball came along swiftly, but too high. It was "one ball," and he waited. The next was fairly swift, but it was going to bounce before it struck, yet it lifted and pa.s.sed right over the plate almost a foot high and Siebold wondered why he had not swiped at it.

"Striker out!" called the umpire, and the captain of the regulars angrily threw down his bat.

Wilde came next. He was the regulars' catcher, and the best batter of the team. Siebold stood, watching closely, a scowl on his face. Almost the same tactics were played, without Wilde ever knowing where the ball was! Another chose three bats before he got one to suit him--this fellow was Kline, the bunter. More than once he had made his base and let fellows on bases in by bunting one at his own feet and in such a manner that it rolled slowly toward the pitcher.

Three b.a.l.l.s were called against Gus. The regulars commenced to smile and Siebold's eyes sparkled. Then three streaks came, all over the plate, waist high and "striker out" sounded the third time. The regulars went to the field, the captain walking slowly and thoughtfully.