Batting to Win Part 2

CHAPTER II

SID IS CAUGHT

"It's this way," began Holly, as he crossed one leg over, and clasped his hands under his rec.u.mbent head. "Randall has been looking up in athletics lately. Since we did so well last season on the diamond, and won the champions.h.i.+p at football, some of the old grads and men who have such 'oodles' of money that they don't know what to do with it, have a kindlier feeling for the old college. It's that which brought about the presentation of the loving cup trophy, or, rather the offer of it to the winner of the baseball champions.h.i.+p of the Tonoka Lake League. The cup will be worth winning, so the doctor says."

"How'd he come to tell you?" asked Phil.

"I happened to go to his study to consult him about some of my studies----" began Holly.

"Yes you did!" exclaimed Tom disbelievingly.

"You went there because Proc. Zane made you!" declared Phil.

"Well, no matter, if you can't take a gentleman's word for it," said Holly, with an a.s.sumed injured air. "Anyhow, I was in the doctor's office, and he had just received a letter from some old grad, honorary degree man, offering the gold cup. Doc asked me if I thought the boys would like to play for it. Has to be won two out of three times before any college can keep it. I told him we'd play for it with bells on!"

"Of course!" agreed Tom and Phil.

"Now, about the team for this spring?" resumed Holly. "You're captain, Tom, but we've got to elect a manager soon, and we'd better begin talking about it," and then the trio launched into a rapid-fire talk on baseball and matters of the diamond.

The three youths were soph.o.m.ores in Randall College, a well-known inst.i.tution located near the town of Haddonfield, in one of our Middle Western States. The college proper was on the sh.o.r.e of Sunny River, not far from Lake Tonoka; and within comparative short distance of Randall were two other colleges. One was Boxer Hall, and the other Fairview Inst.i.tute--the latter a co-educational inst.i.tution. The three, together with some other near-by colleges and schools, formed what was called the Tonoka Lake Athletic League, and there were champions.h.i.+p games of baseball, football, tennis, hockey, golf, and other forms of sport.

Those of you who have read the previous volumes of this "College Sports Series" need little if any introduction to the characters who have held the stage in my opening chapter. Others may care for a formal introduction, which I am happy to give them.

In the first book, called "The Rival Pitchers," there was told of the efforts Tom Parsons made to gain the place as "twirler" on the 'varsity nine. Tom was a farmer's son, in moderate circ.u.mstances, and had come to Randall from Northville. Almost at once he got into conflict with Fred Langridge, a rich student, who was manager of the 'varsity ball nine, and also its pitcher, and who resented Tom's efforts to "make" the nine.

After much snubbing on the part of Langridge, and not a few unpleasant experiences Tom got his chance. Eventually he supplanted Langridge, who would not train properly, and who smoked, drank and gambled, thinking himself a "sport."

Tom soon became one of the most liked of the sporting crowd, and the especial friend of Phil Clinton and Sidney Henderson, with whom he had roomed for the last term. The three were now called the "inseparables."

In the first book several thrilling games were told of, also how Randall won the champions.h.i.+p after a hard struggle with Boxer and Fairview, in which games Tom Parsons fairly "pitched his head off," to quote Holly Cross, who was an expert on diamond slang. Langridge did his best to injure Tom, and nearly succeeded, but the pitcher had many friends, besides his two special chums, among them being Holly Cross, Bricktop Molloy, Billy or "Dutch" Housenlager, who was full of horseplay, "Snail"

Looper, so called from his ability to move with exceeding slowness, and his liking for night prowlings.

Then there was Pete Backus, known as "Gra.s.shopper," from his desire, but inability, to s.h.i.+ne as a high and broad distance jumper; "Bean" Perkins, a "shouter" much depended on in games, when he led the cheering; Dan Woodhouse, called Kindlings, and Jerry and Joe Jackson, known as the "Jersey Twins."

Of course, Tom and his two chums had many other friends whom you will meet from time to time. Sufficient to say that he "made good" in the eyes of the coach, Mr. Leighton, and was booked not only to pitch on the 'varsity again, but he had been elected captain, just before the present story opens.

Phil Clinton was the hero of my second volume, a story of college football, ent.i.tled "A Quarter Back's Pluck." Phil was named for quarter back on the 'varsity eleven, but, for a time it looked as if he would be out of the most important games. His mother was very ill in Florida, in danger of death from a delicate operation, and Phil, and his sister Ruth Clinton (who attended Fairview Inst.i.tute) were under a great nervous strain.

Langridge, seeing that Tom was beyond his vengeance, tried his tricks on Phil. Together with Garvey Gerhart, a freshman, Langridge planned to keep Phil out of an important game. They "doctored" a bottle of liniment he used, but this trick failed. Then they planned to send him, just before an important contest, a telegram, stating that his mother was dying. They figured that he would not play and that Randall would lose the contest--both Gerhart and Langridge being willing to thus play the traitor to be revenged on the coach and captain of the eleven.

But, with characteristic pluck, Phil went into the game, stuffing the fake telegram in his pocket, and playing like a Trojan, even though he believed his mother was dying. It was pluck personified. After aiding his fellows to win the champions.h.i.+p, Phil hurried off the field, to go to Florida to his mother. Then, for the first time, he learned that the message he had received was a "fake"--for his mother was on the road to recovery as stated in a telegram his sister Ruth had received.

Of course the trick Langridge and Gerhart played was found out, and they both left Randall quietly, so that the name of the college might not be disgraced.

But though Tom, Phil, Sid and their chums lived a strenuous life when sports were in the ascendency, that does not mean that they had no time for the lighter side of life. There were girls at Fairview--pretty girls and many of them. One, in particular--Madge Tyler--seemed to fit Tom's fancy, and he and she grew to be very friendly. Perhaps that was because Tom had rather supplanted Langridge in the eyes of Miss Tyler, who had been to many affairs with him, before she knew his true character. Then there was Ruth Clinton, Phil's sister. After meeting her Tom was rather wavering in his attachment toward Miss Tyler, but matters straightened themselves out, for Phil and Miss Tyler seemed to "hit it off," to once more quote Holly Cross, though for a time there was a little coldness between Tom and Phil on this same girl question. When this story opens, however, Tom considered himself cheated if he did not see Ruth at least twice a week, and as for Phil, he and Miss Tyler--but there, I'm not going to be needlessly cruel.

To complete the description of life at Randall I might mention that Dr.

Albertus Churchill, sometimes called "Moses," was the venerable and well-beloved head of the inst.i.tution, and that as much as he was revered so much was Mr. Andrew Zane, the proctor, disliked; for, be it known, the proctor did not always take fair advantage of the youths, and he was fond of having them "upon the carpet," or, in other words, before Dr.

Churchill for admonition about certain infractions of the rules.

Another character, little liked, was Professor Emerson Tines, dubbed "pitchfork," by his enemies, and they were legion.

I believe that is all--no, to give you a complete picture of life at Randall I must mention that Sidney Henderson, the third member of the "inseparables" was a woman hater--a misogynist--an anchorite--a dub--almost anything along that line that his chums could think to call him. He abhorred young ladies--or he thought he did--and he and Tom and Phil were continually at variance on this question, and that of having girls' photographs in the common study. But of that more later.

With Holly stretched out on the old sofa, and Phil and Tom in various tangled att.i.tudes in chairs--Phil in the depths of the ancient one--the talk of baseball progressed.

"Yes, we must have an election for manager soon," conceded Tom. "But first I want to see what sort of a team I'm going to have. We need outdoor practice, but if this rotten weather keeps up----"

"Hark! I think I hear the rain stopping," exclaimed Phil.

"Stop nothing," declared Holly. "It's only catching its breath for another deluge." And it did seem so, for, presently, there came a louder patter than ever, of drops on the tin gutter.

"Well, guess I'd better be moving," announced Holly, after another spasm of talk. "What time is it by your town clock, anyhow?" and he s.h.i.+ed a book at the alarm timepiece so that the face of it would be slewed around in his direction, giving him a peep at it without obliging him to get up.

"Here! What are you trying to do?" demanded Tom. "Do you want to break the works, and stop it?"

"Impossible, my dear boy," said Holly lazily. "Just turn it around for me, will you, like a good fellow. I don't see how I missed it. I must practice throwing, or I won't be any good when the ball season opens.

Give me another shot?" and he raised a second volume.

"Quit!" cried Tom, interposing his arm in front of the fussy little clock.

"That calls us to our morning duties," added Phil, adding in a sing-song voice: "Oh, vandal, spare that clock, touch not a single hand, for surely it doth keep the time the worst in all the land."

"Fierce," announced Holly, closing his eyes and pretending to breathe hard. "It tells you how much longer you can sleep in the morning, I guess you mean," he went on. "The three of you were late for chapel this a. m."

"That's because Sid monkeyed with the regulator," insisted Tom. "He thought he could improve it. But, say, it is getting late. Nearly ten."

"And Sid isn't back yet," went on Phil.

"My bedtime, anyhow," came from Holly, as he slid from the sofa, and glided from the room. "So long. Sid wants to look out or he'll be caught. Proc. Zane has a new book, and he wants to get some of the sporting crowd down in it. See you in the dewy morn, gents," and he was gone.

"Sid _is_ late," murmured Tom, as he began to prepare for bed. "Shall we leave a light for him?"

"Nope. Too risky," decided Phil. "No use of us all being hauled up. But maybe he's back, and is in some of the rooms. He's got ten minutes yet."

But the ten minutes pa.s.sed, and ten more, and Sid did not come back.

Meanwhile Tom and Phil had "doused their glim," and were in bed, but not asleep. Somehow there was an uneasy feeling worrying them both. They could not understand Sid's action in going off so suddenly, and so mysteriously--especially as there was a danger of being caught out after hours. And, as Sid was working for honors, to be caught too often meant the danger of losing that for which he had worked so hard.

"I can't understand----" began Tom, in a low voice, when from the chapel clock, the hour of eleven boomed out.

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed Phil.

Some one was coming along the corridor--two persons to judge by the footsteps.

"Is that Sid?" whispered Tom.

Phil did not answer. A moment later the door opened, and in the light that streamed from a lamp in the corridor, Sid could be seen entering.

Behind him stood Proctor Zane.

"You will report to Dr. Churchill directly after chapel in the morning,"