The Purple Pennant

by Ralph Henry Barbour

“You’d better slip down there before it’s too late and tell that to Dick,” said Arthur sarcastically. “He’d be mighty glad to know it.”

“That’s all right, old scout. You wait and see if I’m not right. I just hope the first fellow up lams one into right!”

He didn’t though; he popped a foul to Lanny and retired to the bench. The succeeding “Norris-villains,” as Fudge called them, were quickly disposed of at first, and Harry Bryan went to bat for the home team. Bryan was a heady batsman and had a reputation for getting his base. He wasn’t particular how he did it. He was a good waiter, had a positive genius for getting struck with the ball and could, when required, lay down a well-calculated bunt. Once on the base, he was hard to stop. On this occasion, he followed Dick’s instructions and was walked after six pitched balls. Pete Farrar waited until Clayton, the Norrisville pitcher, had sent a ball and a strike over and then trundled one down the first base path that started well but unfortunately rolled out, to the immense relief of the hovering Norrisville pitcher and first-baseman. With two strikes against him, it was up to Pete to hit out of the infield, but Captain Jones, coaching at first, sent Bryan off to second and Pete’s swipe at the ball missed. Bryan, though, was safe by three feet, and the stands applauded wildly and saw in imagination the beginning of Clearfield’s scoring. But Bryan never got beyond second in that inning. Gordon Merrick flied out to shortstop and Captain Warner Jones, trying his best to hit between second and short, lined one squarely into second-baseman’s glove.

Nostrand held the enemy safe once more, although the second man up got to first on Scott’s error and slid safely to second when the third batsman was thrown out, Scott to Merrick. A fly to McCoy in left field ended the suspense.

It was Will Scott who started things going for the Purple. He was first up and caught the second offering on the end of his bat and landed it in short right for a single. McCoy sacrificed nicely and Scott took second. Breen there and then vindicated Dick’s judgment. After Clayton had put himself in a hole by trying to give Breen what he didn’t want, and after the onlookers had gone through a violent attack of heart-failure when Will Scott was very nearly caught off second, Breen found something he liked the look of and crashed his bat against it with the result that Scott sped home and Breen rested on second.

Dick summoned Lanny and whispered to him and Lanny nodded and strode to the plate swinging the black bat that was his especial pride and affection. Norrisville played in and Lanny did what they expected he would try to do, but did it so well that their defense was unequal to the task. His bunt toward third was slow and short. Breen landed on the next bag and Lanny streaked for first. Both third-baseman and catcher went after the bunt and there was an instant of indecision. Then third-baseman scooped up the ball and pegged to first. But Lanny, whose record for sixty yards was six and four-fifths seconds, beat out the throw.

Nostrand played a waiting game and had two strikes and a ball on him before Lanny found his chance to steal. Then, with a good getaway, he slid to second unchallenged, Nostrand swinging and missing. With men on third and second and but one down, the world looked bright to the Clearfield supporters, but when, a moment later, Nostrand’s attempt at a sacrifice fly popped high and fell into shortstop’s hands, the outlook dimmed.

But there was still hope of more runs. With Bryan up, Clearfield might get a hit. The Norrisville catcher, though, decided that Bryan would be better on first than at bat and signaled for a pass. Four wide ones were pitched and Harry trotted to first and the bases were filled. Theoretically, the Norrisville catcher was right, for with two out three on bases were no more dangerous than two, and he knew that the next batsman, Pete Farrar, had earned his location in the line-up because of his ability to sacrifice rather than to hit out. But for once theory and practice didn’t agree. Farrar, barred from bunting, resolved to go to the other extreme and hit as hard and as far as he could—if he hit at all. For a minute or two it looked as though he was not to hit at all, for Clayton kept the ball around Farrar’s knees and registered two strikes against him before Pete realized the fact. Then came a ball and then a good one that Pete fouled behind first base. Another ball, and the tally was two and two. Again Pete connected and sent the ball crashing into the stand. Clayton’s attempt to cut the corner resulted badly for him, for the umpire judged it a ball. Anxious coachers danced and shouted jubilantly.

“He’s got to pitch now, Pete!” bawled Captain Jones. “It’s got to be good! Here we go! On your toes, Breen! Touch all the bases, Harry! Yip! Yip! Yip! Yi——”

The last “Yip” was never finished, for just when Warner was in the middle of it bat and ball met with a crack and a number of things happened simultaneously. The ball went streaking across the infield, rising as it went, Breen scuttled to the plate, Lanny flew to third, Harry Bryan sped to second, Pete legged it desperately to first. Second-baseman made a wild attempt to reach the ball, but it passed well above his upstretched glove and kept on. Right- and center-fielders started in, hesitated, changed their minds and raced back. The spectators, on their feet to a boy—or girl—yelled madly as fielders and ball came nearer and nearer together far out beyond the running track in deep center. A brief moment of suspense during which the shouting died down to little more than a murmur and then the outcome was apparent and the yelling suddenly arose to new heights. The fielders slowed down in the shadow of the distant fence, but not so the ball. It made a fine, heroic effort to pass out of the field but couldn’t quite do it. Instead it banged against the boards a few inches from the top and bounded back. It was right-fielder who recovered it and who, turning quickly, made a fine throw to second-baseman. And second-baseman did all he could to cut that hit down to a three-bagger, but Pete was already scuttling to the plate when the ball left his hand and the throw, being hurried, took the catcher just far enough to the right to let Pete in. Pete, catcher and ball became interestingly mixed together for an instant in a cloud of dust and then the umpire, stooping and spreading his arms with palms downward, returned his verdict.