the Young Pitcher (1992) (13 page)

I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was you know how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!

Tell him, said Ken, quickly.

What? groaned Kel, in fright.

Tell him. Let me tell him for you.

No no no. He'd fire me off the team, and I couldn't stand that.

I'll bet Worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. Maybe he knows more than you think.

I'm afraid to tell him, Ken. I just can't tell him.

But you gave your word of honor not to break training. The only thing left is to confess.

I won't tell, Ken. It's not so much my own place on the team there are the other fellows.

Ken saw that it was no use to argue with Raymond while he was so sick and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make him comfortable. Raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better.

I won't be able to practise to-day, he said; but I'll go down to lunch.

As he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling up the stairs.

Graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste.

How're you feeling? he asked.

Pretty rocky. Graves I told Ward about it, said Raymond.

Upon his hurried entrance Graves had not observed Ken.

What did you want to do that for? he demanded, arrogantly.

Raymond looked at him, but made no reply.

Ward, I suppose you'll squeal, said Graves, sneeringly. That'll about be your speed.

Ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent.

You sissy! cried Graves, hotly. Will you peach on us to Arthurs?

No. But if you don't get out of my room I'll hand you one, replied Ken, his voice growing thick.

Graves's face became red as fire.

What? Why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! I've been aching to punch you!

Well, why don't you commence?

With the first retort Ken had felt a hot trembling go over him, and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened.

Ken Graves, pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. Don't please! He turned from one to the other. Don't scrap!

Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it, said Ken, passionately. You've been after me all season, but I wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball team. You are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college spirit means. You're a mucker!

I'll lick you for that! raved Graves, shaking his fists.

You can't lick me!

Come outdoors. I dare you to come outdoors. I dare you!

Ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. Come on! he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. Graves hesitated a moment, then followed.

Raymond suddenly called after them:

Give it to him, Ken! Slug him! Beat him all up!

Friendship A half-hour or less afterward Ken entered the training-house. It chanced that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the hall to the dining-room, and with them was Worry Arthurs.

Hello! you back? What's the matter with you? demanded the coach.

Ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. Sundry red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. His eyes were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow.

You've been in a scrap, declared Worry.

I know it, said Ken. Let me go up and wash.

Worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of Ken. The boys stood silent and aghast. Suddenly there came thumps upon the stairs, and Raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. He dodged under Worry's arm and plunged at Ken to hold him with both hands.

Ken! You're all bloody! he exclaimed, in great excitement. He didn't lick you? Say he didn't! He's got to fight me, too! You're all bunged up!

Wait till you see him! muttered Ken.

A-huh! said Worry. Been scrappin' with Graves! What for?

It's a personal matter, replied Ken.

Come, no monkey-biz with me, said the coach, sharply. Out with it!

There was a moment's silence.

Mr. Arthurs, it's my fault, burst out Raymond, flushed and eager. Ken was fighting on my account.

It wasn't anything of the kind, retorted Ken, vehemently.

Yes it was, cried Raymond, and I'm going to tell why.

The hall door opened to admit Graves. He was dishevelled, dirty, battered, and covered with blood. When he saw the group in the hall he made as if to dodge out.

Here, come on! Take your medicine, called Worry, tersely.

Graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow from his usual vaunting self.

Now, Raymond, what's this all about? demanded Worry.

Raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant.

Ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. I told him I had been half drunk last night and that Graves had gotten me to drink. Then Graves came in. He and Ken had hard words. They went outdoors to fight.

Would you have told me? roared the coach in fury. Would you have come to me with this if I hadn't caught Peg?

Raymond faced him without flinching.

At first I thought not when Ken begged me to confess I just couldn't. But now I know I would.

At that Worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken Graves.

Mebbe it'll surprise you, Graves, to learn that I knew a little of what you've been doin'. I told Homans to go to you in a quiet way and tip off your mistake. I hoped you'd see it. But you didn't. Then you've been knockin' Ward all season, for no reason I could discover but jealousy. Now, listen! Peg Ward has done a lot for me already this year, and he'll do more. But even if he beats Place, it won't mean any more to me than the beatin' he's given you. Now, you pack your things and get out of here. There's no position for you on this varsity.

Without a word in reply and amid intense silence Graves went slowly up-stairs. When he disappeared Worry sank into a chair, and looked as if he was about to collapse. Little Trace walked hesitatingly forward with the manner of one propelled against his will.

Mr. Arthurs, I I, he stammered I'm guilty, too. I broke training. I want to

The coach waved him back. I don't want to hear it, not another word from anybody. It's made me sick. I can't stand any more. Only I see I've got to change my rules. There won't be any rules any more. You can all do as you like. I'd rather have you all go stale than practise deceit on me. I cut out the trainin' rules.

No! The team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach.

Worry, we won't stand for that, spoke up Reddy Ray. His smooth, cool voice was like oil on troubled waters. I think Homans and I can answer for the kids from now on. Graves was a disorganizer that's the least I'll say of him. We'll elect Homans captain of the team, and then we'll cut loose like a lot of demons. It's been a long, hard drill for you, Worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. We've been a kind of misfit team all spring. You've had a blind faith that something could be made out of us. Homans has waked up to our hidden strength. And I go further than that. I've played ball for years. I know the game. I held down left field for two seasons on the greatest college team ever developed out West. That's new to you. Well, it gives me license to talk a little. I want to tell you that I can feel what's in this team. It's like the feeling I have when I'm running against a fast man in the sprints. From now on we'll be a family of brothers with one idea. And that'll be to play Place off their feet.

Coach Arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life. Likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell of a powerful stimulus. The sprinter's words struck fire from all present.

Homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. Boys! One rousing cheer for Worry Arthurs and for Wayne!

Lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar.

It was strange and significant at that moment to see Graves, white-faced and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the door. It was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him. Arthurs and Homans and Ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson to the young players.

Dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room. Mr. Arthurs, I done call yo' all. Lunch is sho' gittin' cold.

That afternoon Wayne played the strong Hornell University nine.

Blake, new at third base for Wayne, was a revelation. He was all legs and arms. Weir accepted eight chances. Raymond, sick or not, was all over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. To McCord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. Trace caught a foul fly right off the bleachers. Homans fielded with as much speed as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. Besides, he made four hits and four runs. Reddy Ray drove one ball into the bleachers, and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that Murray said was wonderful. Dean stood up valiantly to his battering, and for the first game had no passed balls. And Ken Ward whirled tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over the plate. He made the Hornell players hit; he had no need to extend himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only two safe hits. All through the game Worry Arthurs sat on the bench without giving an order or a sign. His worried look had vanished with the crude playing of his team.

That night the Hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable ability, was entertained at Carlton Club by Wayne friends, and he expressed himself forcibly: We came over to beat Wayne's weak team. It'll be some time till we discover what happened. Young Ward has the most magnificent control and speed. He's absolutely relentless. And that frog-legged second-baseman oh, say, can't he cover ground! Homans is an all-round star. Then, your red-headed Ray, the sprinter he's a marvel. Ward, Homans, Ray they're demons, and they're making demons of the kids. I can't understand why Wayne students don't support their team. It's strange.

What the Hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club, and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to dormitory, and thus over all the university.

Boys, the college is wakin' up, said Worry, rubbing his hands. Yesterday's game jarred 'em. They can't believe their own ears. Why, Hornell almost beat Dale's team last spring. Now, kids, look out. We'll stand for no fussin' over us. We don't want any jollyin'. We've waited long for encouragement. It didn't come, and now we'll play out the string alone. There'll be a rush to Grant Field. It cuts no ice with us. Let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the spring. We'll show 'em a few things. We'll make 'em speechless. We'll make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. We'll repay all their slights by beatin' Place.

Worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that Ken was a pitcher.

One more word, boys, he went on. Keep together now. Run back here to your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. Be civil when you are approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. Keep to yourselves. Your reward is comin'. It'll be great. Only wait!

And that was the last touch of fire which moulded Worry's players into a family of brothers. Close and warm and fine was the culmination of their friendship. On the field they were dominated by one impulse, almost savage in its intensity. When they were off the field the springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun.