Sam was right, for in the next game but one Jack went in at the start, Tyler Wicks being on the hospital list for the time, and played such a good game that Mr. Shay put on his thinking-cap and tried to find a place for Jack in the regular line-up. A day or two later, in practice, Jack was surprised to find himself in right field, a position that had been fairly well filled by Watkins, with Joe Williams as substitute. After he had grown accustomed to the change of territory, Jack did well enough there, the only thing that bothered him being the disconcerting proximity of Farmer Finkler’s stone wall, which lay close at his left. Once or twice a long fly from Mr. Shay’s bat sent him almost up to the wall, and any player knows how difficult it is to keep one’s mind on the ball when one is expecting at any instant to collide with such an unyielding obstacle as a wall or fence. After that, Jack played in right and left, and, once or twice, in centre, and it was plain to be seen that Mr. Shay was training him for an all-around outfielder. This didn’t please Jack very well, for he preferred having a settled goal to strive for. Besides, a utility man, which he was fast becoming, was quite as likely as not to adorn the bench when the important games came along. But Jack worked away cheerfully enough, and did what he was told to the best of his ability. Only to Sam did he voice his regret.
“I’d rather he’d left me in left field, Sam. Then I might have got into a part of a game now and then. As it is, with Wicks ahead of me, and Watkins and Williams and Truesdale, why, I don’t see where I come in!”
“Don’t you? I do. Shay’s going to use you for a substitute outfielder, Jack, and a pinch-hitter. That’s why he’s been keeping you at the net all the afternoon. You’ve got a sort of lucky way of connecting with the ball that Shay takes a fancy to. Don’t you worry, chum, you’ll get your show all right. Being a general handy man won’t keep you from falling into a regular place when the place is ready. Meanwhile, what you want to do is to bat and bat and then some. You’ve got a good eye, old man, and you’re going to make a fine old hitter some day. And I’m glad I discovered you!”
“So am I,” laughed Jack. “I’m a grand discovery.”
[CHAPTER IX]
JACK GETS A LIFT
It was about a fortnight after the unsuccessful visit to Farmer Finkler’s that Jack asked permission to cut practice and go to town. His mission in Charlemont was the purchase of a straw hat, for the weather, it now being almost the last of May, had become decidedly warm and cloth caps were no longer comfortable. Coach Shay gave the desired permission readily enough and Jack set off at three o’clock. The town was a good mile and a half by road, and as one didn’t strike the trolley line until he had traversed the first two-thirds of the distance, going to town was something of an undertaking on a hot day. There was a nearer route, but it lay over the hill and through pastures and by devious ways, and Jack had been over it but once and doubted his ability to reach Charlemont by that trail. So he struck out down the road, keeping to the shade where there was any, and wishing that some one would come along and give him a lift. And so when the sound of wheels did reach his ears he turned around and viewed the approaching vehicle anxiously. It proved to be a side-bar buggy, dingy and much in need of a coat of paint or varnish, occupied by a single person. Jack congratulated himself and stopped to await it. If the buggy wasn’t much to boast of, the horse, on the contrary, was a beauty, a young bay with dark points that came swinging along the dusty road as though he thoroughly enjoyed every movement of his strong supple muscles. The driver was a man of middle age, a prosperous farmer from his appearance. Jack stepped out into the road as the buggy came up and held up his hand.
“Will you give me a lift, sir, please?” he asked.
The buggy went by and for a moment Jack thought that the occupant had either not heard or didn’t want to comply with the request. But the horse was finally pulled up some fifty or sixty feet beyond and the driver turned and beckoned peremptorily to him. Jack hurried down the road.