[CHAPTER XIII]
RECALLS THE FACT THAT WHAT’S FAIR FOR ONE IS FAIR FOR ANOTHER, AND RECORDS A DEFEAT AND A VICTORY
A week later Wickasaw came over to the mainland and met Chicora on the diamond. The final score, when the game came to an end at the last of the seventh inning, was 18 to 4, and I had rather not say which side scored the 18. However, defeat is not dishonorable; Chicora had that thought to comfort her. Wells, he of the snub-nose, pitched a magnificent game for five innings, and then went so high into the air that he wasn’t able to get down again while the game lasted. And while he was up there Wickasaw unkindly batted in eight runs and scored seven more on errors, four of them being due to Wells’s wildness. Wickasaw played every last one of her councilors—four in all—and would probably have won by a small margin even if Wells hadn’t gone to pieces. But the result was a disappointment to Bob, and he worried over it a good deal during the ensuing three days. Wickasaw went home in her launch and rowboats audibly pleased with herself, and the next day, beneath her camp-flag on the pole at the landing, floated a square of white sheeting inscribed:
W. 18; C. 4
And every time Bob saw that flag floating in the breeze he ground his teeth. And Dan smiled his widest smile, and drew a sketch of the flag they were going to put up after the next game. And in the meanwhile everybody went to work harder than ever at the batting-net and in the field; for the lesson of defeat is renewed endeavor.
On the following Saturday Chicora played again, this time with the nine from the Chicora Inn, a nine made up of guests and employees of the hotel. It was the finest kind of an August afternoon, warm enough to limber the players’ muscles, and yet not so hot that the spectators were uncomfortable under the shade of the trees. Wells went into the box again for the Camp, while the Inn had her head clerk, a Dartmouth College man, do the pitching for her. For the first three innings the Camp had everything its own way. Nelson started things going with a three-bagger in the second, and after the bases had filled up Bob went to bat and cleared them, himself reaching second. Again, in the third a base on balls to the second man up proved costly, the runner on first reaching second on a passed ball and taking third on a single by Carter. Then Wells got in the way of an in-shoot and limped to base amid the laughing applause of the Camp rooters, and the bags were all occupied. It was Nelson’s chance again, and he made the most of it. With two strikes and three balls called on him he found what he wanted, and hit safely for two bases over short-stop’s head. The Inn had meanwhile scored but one run, and so at the beginning of the fourth inning the score stood 6 to 1, and the spectators who were gallantly flaunting the crimson flags of Chicora Inn were becoming anxious.
When the Inn next went to the bat it was seen that she had substituted a new player for the one who had thus far been holding down second base. The new man was about six feet tall, and fully thirty-five years old, and his face seemed dimly familiar to Bob. And when, having gone to bat, he lined the first ball pitched between first and second for three bases, Bob recognized him as “Monty” Williams, an old Princeton player who had made a reputation for himself while in college as a star ball-player. In that inning the Inn netted three runs, and the score was no longer so one-sided. But Bob was worried, and as the teams changed sides he made his way to the captain of the opposing team.
“Look here,” he said, “I don’t think it’s a fair deal for you fellows to play Williams. He’s an old college player, and we know that he isn’t staying at the Inn. He’s visiting over at Bass Island.”