But he had accepted the challenge to play. As a Boy Scout, he could do no less. Loyalty to his leader, to the team, and to the school, were in his mind as inflexible as must have been the loyalty of Napoleon's soldiers to their leader in those other days. Nor was that the limit of Nap's resolution. If he were to play at all, he must actually help to make victory possible. He must offset his lack of technical skill with strategy. He must out-guess, out-plan, out-general the opposing team. For hadn't his hero once said that most battles were won in the council room, before a shot was fired?
As a result of the toss, which Bunny had won, Belden batted first. Nap shuffled about nervously as the Lakeville captain took his three practice pitches and Bi shot the last ball to Jump, on second, who swooped low to tag an imaginary runner. Then the umpire lifted his hand. "Play ball!" he said; and the game was on.
It was hard for Nap to remain inactive during the first half of that initial inning. He wished he were a star pitcher, like Bunny, with the balance of each play hinging upon his delivery; failing that, he even found himself hoping a fly ball might come sailing to him. But nothing happened to test his mettle. The first Belden batter fanned on three pitched balls; the second fouled to Bi, who calmly slipped off his mask and smothered the little pop-up without moving from his tracks; the third grounded out to Roundy, who made the play unassisted. Then Nap trotted in from the field, only to watch Specs, Jump and Bunny retired in one-two-three order. He trotted back to center field again. In a way, he began to understand what Napoleon meant when, with the war raging elsewhere, he chafed in the city and said, "Paris weighs on me like a leaden mantle."
But in the second inning, opportunity beckoned to Nap. A Belden batter shot a stinging grass-clipper straight at S. S., and that youth allowed it to trickle between his legs. The next batter flied over second. With the cry, "Let me have it!" Nap came charging in for the catch.
It was not a difficult ball to handle. Jump might have backed under it easily. But Jump's play just then, with a runner on first, was to guard the keystone sack. All this Nap sensed in an instant; all this—and something more.
The batter was merely trotting toward first. He had no hope of an error; he could already see the play reported, "Flied out to center field." But Nap, racing toward the falling ball, was fairly quivering with the hope of a strategy that filled his heart to bursting.
He was under the fly now. He lifted his hands for the catch, stealing a final glance to assure himself that the batter was still only half way to first; then, abruptly, he took one backward step, allowed the ball to hit the ground, caught it as it bounced, and shot it unerringly to Jump.
There was no need of shouting a warning to Jump. He was baseball wise. He knew what to do. Plumping one foot on the bag, and thus forcing the runner who had been on first, he whipped the ball to Roundy for the second put-out, before the astonished batter could galvanize his legs enough to beat the throw. Nap had out-witted batter and runner. There were now two out, with nobody on base.
All the Scouts cheered. Bunny shouted some unintelligible word of thanks and congratulation, accompanied by a broad grin. Stalking back to his position in deep center field, Nap said softly to himself, "I'm glad I did it if it pleases him." Perhaps this was some hazy recollection of Napoleon's message to Josephine. "I prize victory," he had written, "since it pleases you."
The last Belden batter that inning swung at three wide balls without ticking a foul.