Batting to Win Part 9

"No, we've got to go there. But don't let that worry you."

There was sharp practice for the next few days, and Tom and his chums were put through "a course of sprouts" to quote Holly Cross. They did some ragged work, under the eagle eye of the coach, and things began to look bad, but it was only the last remnant of staleness disappearing, for the day before the game there was exhibited a noticeable stiffness, and a confidence that augured well for Randall.

"The batting still leaves something to be desired," remarked Mr.

Leighton, as practice was over for the day. "I have great hopes of Sid Henderson, though."

"Yes, if----" began Tom.

"If what?" asked the coach quickly.

"If he doesn't go back on himself," finished the pitcher, but that was not what he had intended to say. He was thinking of Sid's queer actions of late--wondering what they portended, and what was the meaning of his chum's odd absences, for, only the night previous, Sid had gone out, following the receipt of a note, and had come in late, smelling vilely of tobacco. Fortunately he had escaped detection by the proctor, but he offered no explanation, and his manner was disturbed, and not like his usual one.

As for Sid, well might his chums be puzzled about him. He seemed totally to have changed, not only in manner but in his att.i.tude toward Tom and Phil. There was a new look on his face. Several times, of late, since his acquaintance with Miss Harrison, and the reconciliation following his little "_de trop faux pas_," as Tom termed it, Sid had been caught day dreaming. Phil or Tom would look up from their studying to see Sid, with a book falling idly from his hands, gazing vacantly into a corner of the room, or looking abstractedly at his side of the wall s.p.a.ce, as though calculating just where would be the best spot for a certain girl's picture.

It was a most enthralling occupation for Sid--this day dreaming. It was a new experience--a deliciously tender and sweet one--for no young man can be any the worse for thinking and dreaming of a fine-charactered girl, albeit one who is amazingly pretty; in fact he is the better for it. In Sid's case his infatuation had come so suddenly that it was overwhelming. In the past he had either been shy with girls, or had not cared enough for them to be more than decently polite. But now everything was different. Though he had seen her but a few times, he could call to mind instantly the very way in which she turned her head when she addressed him. He could see the slight lifting of the eyebrows as she asked a question, the sparkle that came into the blue eyes, that held a hint of mischief. He could hear her rippling laugh, and he knew in what a tantalizing way a certain ringlet escaped from the coils of her hair, and fell upon her neck.

Often in cla.s.s the lecturer would suddenly call his name, and Sid would start, for he had sent his thoughts afar, and it required a sort of wireless message to bring them back.

The day of the Boxer game could not have been better. There had been a slight shower in the night, but only sufficient to lay the dust, and it was just cool enough to be delightful. The Randall players and their supporters, including a crowd of enthusiastic "rooters," a number of subst.i.tutes and a mascot, in the shape of a puppy, fantastically attired, made the trip to Boxer Hall in special trolleys, hired stage coaches and some automobiles. Bert Bascome owned an automobile, and he made much of himself in consequence.

There was a big crowd in the grand stands when the Randall players arrived, and they were received with cheers, for the sporting spirit between the two colleges was a generous one.

"My, what a lot of girls!" remarked Tom to Sid and Phil, as the three chums looked over toward the seats, which were a riot of color.

"Yes, all the Fairview students are here to-day," spoke Phil. "Ruth said she and Miss Tyler were coming."

"I wonder if----" began Sid, and then he stopped, blus.h.i.+ng like a girl.

"Yes, Miss Harrison is coming with them," replied Phil, with a laugh.

"We'll look 'em up after the game--if we win."

"Why not, if we lose?" asked Sid quickly.

"I haven't the nerve, if we let Boxer Hall take the first game of the season from us," was the reply.

Fast and snappy practice began, and it was somewhat of a revelation to the Randall players to note the quick work on the part of their rivals.

In getting around the bases, batting out flies, getting their fingers on high b.a.l.l.s and low grounders, Boxer Hall seemed to have improved very much over last year.

"We've got our work cut out for us," remarked Phil in a low voice to his two chums. "Say, Langridge has some speed, too. Look at that!"

The new pitcher of Boxer Hall was throwing to Stoddard, the catcher, and the b.a.l.l.s landed in the pocket of the big mitt with a vicious thud.

"Don't worry. Sid, here, will knock out a couple of home runs," said Tom. "Won't you, Sid?"

"I only hope I don't fan the air. How are his curves?"

"Pretty good, for the first few innings," answered Tom. "After that you can find 'em easy enough. He wears down--at least he did last year."

The practice came to an end. The preliminaries were arranged, and, with the privilege of the home team coming last to the bat, Randall went in the initial inning. The two teams were made up as follows:

RANDALL COLLEGE

Sid Henderson, _second base_.

William Housenlager, _catcher_.

Phil Clinton, _first base_.

Tom Parsons, _pitcher_.

Dan Woodhouse, _third base_.

Jerry Jackson, _right field_.

Bob Molloy, _shortstop_.

Joe Jackson, _left field_.

Holman Cross, _center field_.

BOXER HALL

Lynn Ralling, _second base_.

Hugh McGherity, _right field_.

Roy Conklin, _left field_.

Arthur Flood, _center field_.

George Stoddard, _catcher_.

Pinkerton Davenport, _first base_.

Fred Langridge, _pitcher_.

Bert Hutchin, _third base_.

Sam Burton, _shortstop_.

"Now, Sid, show 'em what you can do," advised Mr. Leighton, as Sid selected a bat, and walked up to the plate. He faced Langridge, and noted the grim and almost angry look in the eyes of the former pitcher on the Randall 'varsity.

"Make him give you a nice one," called Bean Perkins, who was ready to shout for victory.

A ball came whizzing toward Sid, and so sure was he that he was going to be hit that he dodged back, but he was surprised when it neatly curved out, went over the plate, and the umpire called:

"Strike One!"

There was a howl of protest on the part of the Randall sympathizers, but it died away when Mr. Leighton held up a warning hand.

Sid struck viciously at the next ball, and felt a thrill of joy as he felt the impact, but, as he rushed away toward first he heard the umpire's call of "Foul; strike!" and he came back.

"Wait for a good one," counseled Phil, in a low voice. "Make him give you a pretty one."

Langridge sent in another swift curve and Sid struck at it. Another foul resulted, and he began to wonder what he was up against. The next attempt was a ball, for Langridge threw away out, but Sid saw coming a moment later, what he thought would make at least a pretty one-bagger.

He swung viciously at it, but missed it clean, and walked to the bench somewhat chagrined.

Dutch Housenlager, with a smile of confidence, walked up next. He was cool, and Langridge, having struck out Sid, seemed to lose some of his anger. He delivered a good ball--an in-shoot--and Dutch caught it on the end of his bat. It seemed to promise well, but Roy Conklin, out on left field was right under it, and Dutch ingloriously came back from first.

"Now, Phil, line one out!" pleaded Tom, as his chum selected his bat, and Phil struck at the first ball, sending a hot liner right past the shortstop.

Phil got to first, and stole second when Tom came up, making it only by a close margin.