The play that won

by Ralph Henry Barbour

“Why, do they play baseball there?” gasped the boy.

“’Course they do! Leastways, they play what’s pretty near like it. The—the general idea’s similar. They’re plumb crazy about it, too. They got a eight-club league down there——”

But at that moment the bell in the town hall clanged its first stroke and Billy fled.

During the four days that the Molly and Kate remained at Forster’s Wharf, Billy and the Captain met twice and when the schooner finally sailed the Captain had full, detailed and most explicit instructions regarding that length of straight, well-seasoned hoki-moki wood that was to be brought back either in the rough or shaped into the Pirate Key idea of a baseball bat. After that there was nothing for Bill to do save await the return of the schooner.

April gave place to May and the Broadport Juniors began to play Saturday afternoon games on the back common and to practice diligently on other days after school was over. Billy served a rigorous apprenticeship in the outfield, chasing flies that went over the heads of the regular players and several times scrambling over Mr. Bannerman’s fence and recovering the ball from under the rhubarb or from between the rows of early peas. So far fortune had attended him and he had invariably escaped with his life. Now and then he was allowed to take his turn with the batters and stand up at the plate while Waldo Hutchins pitched his famous “slow ones.” Practice is supposed to make perfect, but Billy was still a long way from perfection as a batsman. Nor could either he or Arthur Humbleton observe any great amount of improvement. But Billy persisted, consoling himself with rosy dreams of the future. Almost any day now the Molly and Kate might return bearing Billy’s Great Discovery.

Meanwhile the Juniors won from Scalfield Grammar School, were defeated by the West Side Reds and were annihilated by the Downerport Eagles. And then, as it seemed to Billy, just in the nick of time to prevent a similar fate at the hands of that especial rival, the Broadport White Sox, the Molly and Kate tied up again at Forster’s Wharf!

That was an eventful day in Billy’s life, eventful from the moment he heard the glad news to the moment that he was back at the house with the precious hoki-moki bat in his possession. He had scarcely heard Captain Ezra’s detailed and interesting account of the securing of the article. For once, anxious to put the bat to the test, Billy thought the Captain just the least bit loquacious! But he banished the thought almost instantly, blushing for its ungraciousness, and quite overwhelmed his benefactor with thanks ere he hurried away with the bat tightly clutched in hand and one jacket pocket bulging with a perfectly good “genuine horsehide” ball that had seen only two weeks’ service in practice and had been acquired from Captain Humbleton for fifteen cents.

Subsiding, much out of breath, on the edge of the side porch, Billy once more examined his prize with eager eyes. As to shape it looked as fine as the best “wagon tongue” ever made. There was no doubt about it, those Pirate Key natives knew how to make a baseball bat! Billy was just a trifle disappointed about one thing, however, and that was the lack of novelty. To all appearance the bat was quite like any other bat except that the inscription “Genuine Hoki-Moki Wood” appeared half-way along its smooth length. The words were printed in uneven characters, and evidently with pen and ink, and the ink had run with the grain of the wood. The varnish was still new and just a bit sticky, but that was to be expected since varnish always dried slowly near salt water. Hoki-moki wood was, contrary to Billy’s preconceived idea, light instead of dark, and closely resembled ash. A surprising feature of the bat was the twine-wound handle. It seemed strange to Billy that the natives of Pirate Key should know of that refinement. His respect for them grew tremendously then and there.

Having examined the bat to his heart’s content, he stood up and swung it experimentally. It proved the least bit heavier than he could have wished, but that wasn’t anything to trouble about. He had frequently heard Jack Cantrell express a preference for a heavy bat, and Jack was the hard-hitter of the Broadport Juniors. Remained now the supreme test, and Billy approached it falteringly. Suppose it failed! Suppose Captain Ezra’s tales of the peculiar properties of hoki-moki wood proved false! Billy felt that the disappointment would be more than he could bear! Nerving himself to the ordeal, he laid the bat at the edge of the porch, squeezed the horsehide ball from his pocket and deposited it with trembling fingers against the house. Seven feet separated ball and bat, and as he withdrew his fingers he gave a deep troubled sigh. For an instant it seemed that the experiment was to fail, and Billy’s heart sank sickeningly. But then, as he stepped back across the boards to the porch’s edge the miracle happened. Slowly, irresolutely the ball moved, rolled a few inches, stopped, went on, gathered momentum and traveled straight along a board until it bumped companionably against the hoki-moki bat!