the Shortstop (1992) Read online

  " Oh ! I don't know! Pretty poor, I guess not! "

  " Poke 'em over, Poke! "

  "Speed! Oh, no ! You can't see 'em !" "Grand, Rube, grand!"

  In the eighth inning, when Findlay came in for their bat. Chase ran into the dressing-room and searched for a horseshoe nail that he remembered seeing. He put it in his pocket. There was one man out when he came to the bat, and he determined to get his base. As luck would have it he placed a hot single in right field. As soon as he reached first and stopped he took the horseshoe nail out of his pocket and held it firmly in his left hand, point exposed.

  One glance toward the bench gave him the sign. Mac's score card was in sight, which meant to run on the first ball pitched. Chase watched the Toledo pitcher with hawk-like eyes. He got up on his toes and as the pitcher started to swing, Chase started for second base. He heard the crack of a ball as Havil hit it, and he saw it shoot out over short to bound between the running fielders.

  He ran as he had never run before, turned second, raced for third, and gripped his horseshoe nail. Budd was leisurely backing into third base trickily, to get there just at the right instant. Chase sped onward, with his eye on that muscular hip. He saw it suddenly, like a gray flash, protrude in his path, and using all his force he swung upward with the horseshoe nail.

  Budd sprang spasmodically into the air.' " Aa-gh ! " A hoarse yell escaped him. The crowd in the stands and bleachers did not know what Chase had done, but as he easily scored, while Budd walked Spanish, they divined the triumph of retaliation, and howled with all the might of fair-minded lovers of sport.

  But the Findlay players and the Toledo players knew how the little youngster Chase had "got back" at the veteran Budd. It was a play such as every ball player revelled in. It embodied the great spirit of the game. And to a man they broke out and pranced over the field in unbridled joy. For a time the game was interrupted.

  And the best part of the incident was when, after Findlay had won 7 to 3, Budd went into the Findlay dressing-room and said to Chase:

  " Kid, shake hands. I 've been lookin' fer thet fer years."

  Chapter XII.

  POPULARITY.

  SMALL boys ushered in the Fourth of July with a bang. The noise began at daybreak, and at nine o'clock when the ball team left for Kenton, it was in full blast. A train-load of happy enthusiasts accompanied the team. Small boys without tickets hid under the seats, with determination in their hearts and hearts in their throats. And the conductor, being a boy himself that morning, with a wager on Findlay, saw nothing.

  " Five hundred strong we're goin' Over," said Mac, rubbing his hands. " Shure we'll draw down a big slice of gate-money today."

  " Rotten arrangement, this mornin' game at Kenton," growled his players. " Kenton is bad enough on any day. But the Fourth ! Oh, Lord! What they'll do to us ! "

  "We can't win," continued Cas, pessi! mistically. "We'll be dodgin' giant firecrackers, mark what I say!"

  When they bowled into the Kenton grounds and poured out of the bus, an enormous shirt-sleeved crowd roared a welcome that was defiance.

  Then waiting showers of red fire-crackers began to fly, and the scene became a smoke clouded battlefield. Small guns popped incessantly and artillery worked strenuously. When this explosion subsided and the smoke rolled away, the Findlay team stood covered with little red and yellow pieces of paper and sniffing the brimstone in the air.

  " Git in an' scrap today, boys," cried Enoch, and for once his voice was not soft.

  "There's nothing to it," said Cas, forgetting his prophecy.

  "A short, hard practice now," added Mac. "Start the dust! Dig 'em up an' peg 'em! Keep lively an' noisy ! "

  Kenton was very different from Wheeling, being one of those baseball towns where the patrons of the game could not see a point, or appreciate a play, or applaud a game unless it was won by their own team. This operated to the poor showing of their team, because when opposing teams visited Kenton they were driven to desperation by the criticism and taunts and atmosphere of an unsportsman-like crowd, and they fought the games to the last ditch.

  Mac particularly warned his players not to question a single decision of the umpire. That official, "Silk" O'Connor, base-ballically reported to be as smooth as silk, was to be in the points that day. Silk was the best umpire in the league. But he was not especially beloved in Kenton. He had officiated in too many games lost by one run. And Silk had an irritating habit of adding a caustic comment to some of his rulings, a kind of wit that did not inspire the players to silence. Further, which seemed unreasonable, he never allowed a player to talk back to him.

  "Lookout for Silk today, boys," concluded Mac. " He's up agin it here, same as we are. Don't expect no close decisions. Don't even look at him.

  Jest drive these Kenton pitchers to the woods. Make the game one-sided."

  " Play ball!" called Silk.

  Enoch had scarcely reached the batter's box when the Kenton pitcher delivered the ball. "Strike!" called Silk, then in low voice, " Foggy eye." Another ball came speeding up. "Strike two!-up late last night?" Enoch's round face grew red, and the lump in his cheek swelled out. He slammed at the next ball and sent it safely past the third-baseman. Thatcher hurried up and took his position on the left side of the plate.

  " Strike ! " called Silk. " Hair brushed fine, Dude! "

  Thatcher bunted the next ball and dashed for first. The pitcher fielded the ball and overthrew, letting Enoch go to third and Thatcher to second.

  " Don't wait!" Whispered Mac to Chase. " Bing the first good one!" Chase did bing one, and that with a vengeance. He had the ability to line the ball. This particular hit seemed to be going straight into the hands of the centre-fielder, but just before reaching him it sailed up and shot over his head.

  " Oh - h ! " yelled Cas, on the coaching line. " Take your time, Enoch. Slow down, Dude, it's easy. Oh, my! I guess it wasn't a beaut. Come on! Come on! Come on! Slide, Chase, slide. That 's the way to hit the ground.

  Havil batted up a high fly to an outfielder. Chase leaned forward and watched the ball till it landed in the fielder's hands, then he darted for the plate. The fielder threw quickly, making a fine race between ball and runner. But Chase had never yet been thrown out on such a play. He slid over the plate just as the ball sped into the catcher's hands.

  The game progressed. Kenton came in for their inning and failed to score. Castorious was in rare form; on a hot day his arm was like India rubber. Findlay added one run in the second and again blanked their opponents. In the third Chase got his second hit, and three hits following his, coupled with a base on balls and two errors, netted three more runs. Again Cas foiled the Kenton batters, and the impatient crowd stamped. In the fifth, two Kenton players hit safely with one out.

  The crowd began to howl. Hicks snapped the ball to Benny, who tagged the runner trying to get back to second. " Out ! " called Silk.

  The Kenton players ran in a body for the umpire. The grandstand raged; the bleachers rose as one man. " He 's safe ! He 's safe ! " " Robber! Robber ! " " Kill him! Kill him!

  Silk ordered the players back to the bench. Cas struck out the next two batters, and elicited another storm from the bleachers. Some one threw a huge fire-cracker at Cas.

  " Boom! " It exploded like a bursting cannon. Cas shook his fist at the bleachers, and that brought forth a rain of smaller fire-crackers.

  Enoch went up and had a strike called on him. He looked at Silk and made a motion with his hand to indicate the ball had passed wide of the plate.

  " Strike two ! " called Silk, imperturbably. Enoch glared at him.

  " Strike three ! " called Silk, more imperturbably. " You're out!"

  Enoch leaned gracefully on his bat, spat tobacco juice about six yards, and said in his soft voice:

  "Do you know a ball when you see it?"

  "That costs you five dollars," sang out Silk.

  " Make it ten, you mullet! "

  "Why, Enoch, how sweet you talk! Ten it is!"
/>   "Make it fifteen, pin-head! "

  " Dear me, the older you get the more you gab! Fifteen it is!"

  "Make it twenty, you web-footed bat! '

  " Twenty it is, and out of the game. The bench for yours !"

  Enoch roared something in inarticulate rage.

  "Get out of the grounds!" ordered Silk. And he held his watch till Enoch shouldered his bat and left the field. Mac threw up his hands as if he knew the game was all over then.

  But even without their captain and third-baseman, Findlay kept blanking Kenton. In the eighth Cas went to the bat. A silence ensued that seemed to presage some striking event. It came in the shape of a huge red fire-cracker, that tumbled over and over in the air, and dropping behind Cas, exploded with a terrific report, tearing the seat out of his trousers.

  Cas jumped about eight feet, and then, transformed into a veritable demon, brandishing his bat and roaring like mad bull, he made for the bleachers.

  If Mac and several policemen had not intercepted him, the scene might have passed from comedy to tragedy. As it was, all Cas could do was to wave his fist at the hooting bleachers and yell:

  " I can lick the man who threw that !"

  "Boo! Boo! Redhead! Redhead! "

  " I can lick you all," bawled Cas. foaming at the mouth.

  In the prevailing excitement the Findlay supporters naturally and foolishly poured out of the stands upon the field. Silk promptly called the game 9 to 0 in Kenton's favor. Then began one of those familiar scenes common to a baseball crowd on the glorious Fourth. Like water the Kenton spectators spilled themselves into the melee.

  What with the angry altercations between partisans of the teams, and yells and horn blowing and shooting of the winners, and pushing, jostling, crowding of both sides, the affair bid well to degenerate into a real fight. But this did not happen. It almost never happens. Great rivalry, great provocation, never yet spoiled the fair spirit of the game.

  But the Findlay players ran a not-soon-to-be-forgotten gantlet to the railroad station. Sore were they, particularly Cas, who was not able to sit down on the way home; and threatening were the supporters, but by the time the gong rang for the afternoon game in Findlay, resentment vanished in present enjoyment.

  For the attendance was very large, the afternoon perfect, and the game a spirited and thrilling one. Only a single misplay marred the brilliant fielding.

  Both pitchers kept the hitting down. The final score was 2 to 1 in Findlay's favor. Chase's star rose higher; and if there were any who did not admit his popularity before the game, there were none after. For at the right time, at the one great absorbing climax, at the moment when eyes flashed, hands clenched, and hearts almost stopped beating, he performed the unexpected feat, the one thing absolutely glorious to the hoping, despairing audience - drove the ball far over the fence.

  That hit settled it. Never had there been one like it save Dan Brouthers' great and memorable drive of years gone by. Mac threw up his hands and stared in rapture at his star. The crowd carried Chase off the field.

  When a player became the idol of the fans it meant something; but when a player made fans out of staid business men, and young society men, and girls in school, and women prominent in town and church affairs, then it meant a great deal. It meant money in the box-office, support for the team, willing, eager, working baseball champions.

  And such a wave carried the Findlay team to the top of popularity, with Chase on the very crest. He was the recipient of more presents in the way of suits, hats, shoes, canes, umbrellas, than he knew what to do with. He received a beautiful gold watch, with his monogram engraved on it. He was asked to luncheon with prominent businessmen; he was invited everywhere. And last, a photographer lured him into his den, there took his picture, and reproducing it on small buttons, sold them by the hundreds. Every youngster and almost every girl in town proudly wore Chase's picture. He was public property.

  This latter fact became a source of pain to Chase. One day Mittie-Maru, having met Marjory by the river, had enlarged upon this matter of the picture buttons, with the result that he had interesting news for Chase.

  " She wouldn't hev one! Wot do you think of thet? Said you were conceited to allow 'em sold. Somehow she blamed you fer it. An' when I asked her if 't wasn't nice to see all the girls a-wearin' 'em - wot you think she said? ` Sickenin', ' thet 's wot ,- ` sickenin' !' Now, I'm wise 'bout girls, an' I up an' tol' her she was a victim of the green-eyed monster. Then wot you think she said? `Mittie-Maru, you needn't speak to me ever any more.' Queered myself pluggin' yer game along, thet's wot I did."

  Thereafter whenever Chase saw one of the buttons decorating the front of a school-girl's blouse, he had a moment of chagrin, and called himself names for ever going into that picture-gallery. And when he saw Marjory he learned what she thought of the selling of his pictures all over town for ten cents each.

  " But, Marjory," said Chase, " even if they do sell so cheap it's good business. It advertises the team, and I get a percentage."

  " Every girl in town can have your picture," replied Marjory, severely.

  Evidently the possibilities of the case weighed more with Marjory than the notoriety.

  Mac, too, showed concern because of the popularity of his short-stop.

  More than once he hinted to Chase the necessity of a ball-player's duty not to be carried away by praise and entertainment. There would come a time, Mac averred, when he would strike a spell of bad form, when the tide of popular favor would ebb, and then he would wish he had not let himself be made so much of.

  And one day towards the close of July Mac sought Chase out in the evening. He seemed eager and excited, yet anxious. He chewed on his cigar stub and talked and held to Chase. " Got a date again to-night? " he asked for the twentieth time.

  " Yes," said Chase.

  " I'll let you go in a minute. There's somethin' I want to say. Chase, are you shure you won't go up in the air, if I tell you? It's great."

  " What do you mean?"

  " Why, I've been a little scairt of all this hobnobbin' an' fussin' of yours. You're only a kid, Chase. An' mebbe only another puff or so 'll blow you out of sight."

  " Haven't I listened to you always and kept both feet on the ground?" " Shure, Chase, shure you have. I never trained a lad who took to things as you."

  "You needn't worry about me, Mac. I'm having a great time here, there's no doubt about it. I like everybody. I'm not missing anything. But what they say or think about my playing hasn't anything to do with it, one way or another. On the surface it all looks easy, like real play. But you know how I've worked and am working to learn the game. I've got to succeed."

  " Good ! Thet's the spirit. Now listen. Ranney, the manager of Cincinnati, wrote me about you, an' today Burke, manager of Detroit, was here, in the grandstand watchin' your work. None of us knew it till after the game. He sneaked in foxy-like. It's jest as well, because mebbe you 'd been nerv! ous. As it was, you put up your usual hard, fast game. He sez to me jest now - I walked to the station with him - he sez, `Thet's a fast lad; can he hit?' An' I sez, `Can he? Well, he's been rippin' the boards off the fence all season.' Then he sez, `Send me his battin' average, an' give me first say on him when the season's over.' "

  Mac spit out his cigar, moistened his lips, and producing papers from his pocket went on:

  " I asked Mannin' of the Chronicle to make out the averages. Here they are. You're hittin' 398, an' leadin' the Dude by a mile. It's hard to believe, Chase, but there's the figgers. You keep puttin' the wood on 'em, an' besides you work a good many bases on balls. Thet tells. Now get this an' keep it under your hat. If you can hang on with thet kind of stick work I 'll sell you for big money when the season's over. An' if you make it an even 400 I 'll give you one-third of the purchase price. Got thet ! "

  "Do I ? Mac, I'll tear the legs off all the third-basemen in the league from now on," replied Chase, with fire in his eye. He saw the tired face of his mother and her toil-worn hands, and he saw the
pale, thoughtful features of his brother. That afternoon he got two triples and a home-run out of five times at bat.

  " Shure nothin' can stop him now!" choked Mac, from the bench.

  And what spoke well for Chase and his future was his popularity with the team. The " course of sprouts " had long since been gone through. Poke and Ford were now the butts of the players. Cas adored him, Enoch called him "Sonny," now with fatherly friendliness, the Dude and Havil sought his society, and Benny hung to him like a leech.

  "Cut out the drinking and come with me," Chase had said one evening. And he had taken Benny from among the hangers-on round the hotel, the young, sports who liked to buy drinks, the rich oil-men who had nothing but money.' Benny was ashamed and backward, but he enjoyed the evening. And Chase took him again and came to like him.

  "How much do you draw, Benny, if you don't mind telling?" asked Chase.

  " One-fifty."

  " What do you do with it all?"

  " Blow it in."

  " Don't you save any? "

  " How can a man save an' skate with thet fly crowd? What doesn't go for booze goes for poker. Sometimes I manage to send a ten-spot home."

  " I send money home every month."

  " I ought to," Benny bowed his head.

  " Folks need it? "

  " Lord! They 're poor, sometimes awful poor when the governor is laid up with rheumatiz. There's mother. she's well an' strong, but my sister's most always ailin'. I never let myself think of them when I'm sober, an' can't when I'm drunk."

  "Benny, you'd be the best second-baseman in this league if you didn't drink. Think how much you could help your folks, even now, let alone what you might do if you worked up to a bigger job."

  " I don't care so much for the booze. there's always somebody jollyin' me," said Benny.

  It happened that Chase knew a Molly McCoy, a saucy, sparkling-eyed girl, who admired Benny and wanted to meet him. So Chase, when he had worn off Benny's rough edges and made him manifest some interest in his appearance, took him to see Molly. The little lady fell in with Chase's deep-laid plot, perhaps more from the eternal feminine than from any other reason, and she made her sparkling eyes complete Chase's good beginning. She attached Benny to herself. And he, unable to comprehend, quite overcome, stuttered to Chase about it, and said most foolish and irrelevant things.