“Hold on, you idiot,” said Alf. “I’m coming. See you at practice, Dan.” And he and Tom hurried out and clattered down the stairs of Clarke three steps at a time. Dan seized his water pitcher, leaned out a window, and sprinkled them as they ran by on their way to Oxford. There were howls from below, and shaken fists, but Dan and Gerald only laughed.
“Got Tom in great shape,” said Dan as he returned the pitcher to its place. “He won’t find his Greek as dry as usual to-day.”
Two days later Yardley played Porter Institute on the diamond and Dan started the game at third base. He and Condit, a Second Class boy, were having a hard fight for the position. Most of the other places on the Varsity were pretty well settled, but third base was a bone of contention and the whole school was watching with interest Dan’s struggle to oust Condit. Dan himself was not satisfied with the game he was putting up. Somehow, he didn’t seem as sure of himself on third as he did on second, and whenever he found himself there he was handicapped by the ever constant fear that he would fail at some critical moment. And in the Porter game his fear was verified.
It was the sixth inning, the score was five to three in favor of Yardley, and Porter had a man on first and a man on second. Porter was enjoying a batting rally and using Reid rather rudely. There was only one out and a hit meant two runs in all probability. The fourth man up chose a ball to his liking and sliced it down the first-base line. Millener, playing off base, made a wild scramble for it, but it sped by him, just inside the white mark, and went bounding into right field. The runners sped for home. Lawrence, right-fielder, was not asleep, however, and had raced in as soon as the ball was hit, and now he managed to smother it some fifteen yards back of first, recovered quickly, and threw to the plate. Richards, the catcher, got it nicely, but was too late to put out the first runner. Quick as a flash he threw to third. Dan was not napping, but in some unaccountable manner the ball went through him, the man from first raced by and sped home and the score was tied. And Porter had a man on second and only one out.
The expected had happened to Dan and he could guess the delight in the heart of Condit over there on the bench. But he settled down when Alf’s voice reached him encouragingly from left-field:
“Hard luck, Dan! Never mind! Keep after ’em!”
Reid, too, settled down and disposed of the next two batters and the teams changed places. Dan walked back to the bench with a grave face. But no one, not even Payson, the coach, made any allusion to his mishap, and, much to his surprise, he was allowed to finish the game at third. Yardley took the lead again in the eighth, was tied in the ninth, and lost the game finally in the eleventh inning, 8 to 7.
That game decided the contest for third-base. Condit stepped into first place again and Dan had to be satisfied with a seat on the bench with the other substitutes. He was keenly disappointed and rather inclined to wish that he had been content with a place in the outfield, where, at least, he would have been a regular instead of a mere sub. But Alf insisted that there was still a chance.
“Condit isn’t any great shakes,” he declared. “The same thing’s likely to happen to him any day. Just you keep on edge and make the most of your opportunities and it’s a safe bet you’ll play as much of the Broadwood game as he does. And another thing, Dan; do your level best at the bat. If you can show yourself a little better there than he is it may decide Payson in your favor. Why, he knows that accidents are likely to happen to the best fellows. Just you peg away at it, old chap!”
So Dan pegged away and worked hard at the batting net and made the most of his chances in the practice games. And all the time he was watching Condit as a cat watches a mouse, hoping uncharitably enough that that youth would make a costly fumble or go stale. But Condit kept himself up to the mark and June wore along and the baseball schedule was nearing its end.