CHAPTER XVIII
DUD GOES TO THE RESCUE
Grafton had now played seven contests with outside teams and had won five and lost two. Six games remained; seven in case it became necessary to play a third game with Mount Morris. On the whole the nine had showed average strength. The pitching had been good and defensively the team had more than held its own against contenders. But both Coach Sargent and Captain Murtha would have been anything but displeased if the batting had been heavier or had even shown promise of improvement. The remaining games were all, with the exception of that with Yarrow High School, scheduled just before the second Mount Morris contest, hard ones. St. James Academy especially was looked on as a difficult opponent, and Lawrence Textile School as scarcely less dangerous. Both teams boasted pitchers of reputation, and unless Grafton’s stick work improved she was not likely to pile up much of a score against either visitor. Of course, it could be argued that a team with a perfect defense is in no danger of defeat, but on the other hand, a team with no power of attack can’t win games. And Guy Murtha, being captain and in his last year at school, naturally wanted very much to come off victor in those remaining contests. Fortunately, the St. James and Lawrence Textile games were to be played on Lothrop Field, a circumstance which would aid to some extent. The meeting with Corliss College was to be played away from home, but Corliss—or Careless, as the Graftonians liked to call it—while strong, was not the problem that either of the other two was. As for Yarrow High—well, that was only a practice game to fill in between the first Mount Morris engagement on the ninth of June, which was a Saturday, and the second one, which fell on the following Friday, the Mount Morris Class Day. In case each of the ancient rivals secured a game the play-off would be at Grafton the next day, the teams remaining after the close of the schools to settle the controversy.
On the Monday succeeding their defeat at Rotan the players were given a particularly strenuous afternoon of it. With the exception of Gordon Parker, whose leg still protested at the injury done it by a Rotan baseman’s spikes, all the players were out and not one was spared, unless we exempt Ben Myatt. Dud put in a hard afternoon, for he pitched six innings for the scrubs and was fairly well hammered. Still, he managed to keep the hits of the regulars so well scattered that Mr. Sargent was satisfied to leave him on the mound until, in the seventh, it became advisable to let a pinch hitter take his place. After that Weston finished up for the scrubs and was so erratic that the one-run lead handed over to him by Dud soon vanished, the regulars winning out by the score of 9 to 6. When Dud heard the result in the Field House later he tried to be sorry for Weston, but the effort wasn’t very successful. Dud, you see, was already entertaining visions of pitching a half-game or so against Mount Morris and thus winning his letter. Not that the letter part of it interested him so much, however. Just the glory of being in a Mount Morris game would be enough for him. Of course, he couldn’t figure out as yet just how that desirable result was to come about. There was Ben Myatt for the first game and Nate Leddy for the second, or the other way around, with Weston to take a hand if needed. As for Brunswick, Dud wasn’t worrying about him. Brunswick was keeping along at about the same pace he had begun the season on, neither worse nor better, while Dud could honestly assure himself that he was improving from day to day, or, at least, from game to game. And he didn’t have to rely wholly on his own verdict, for others had seen the improvement and told him of it. Ben Myatt had praised him warmly, Captain Murtha had had a good word more than once and Mr. Sargent had let Dud see that he wasn’t blind to the latter’s growing ability.
But Dud was forced to presuppose a third game in the big series before he could see himself turning back the Mount Morris hitters, and a third game might not materialize. Of course, if Gus Weston kept on blowing up every time he went into the points, why, that would improve Dud’s chances a whole lot, and it was this thought that made it difficult for Dud to grieve over the loss of that game to the scrubs! With Weston out of the way——
But Weston was an old hand, had been pitching for three years and was just as likely to steady down again the next time and send his stock soaring again. All that was to be done, reflected Dud, was to hope for the best—which, from Gus Weston’s point of view, was the worst!—and keep right on getting better and better every day. He didn’t wish anyone ill luck, but if only Leddy might have a slight attack of measles or something and Gus Weston develop a bum wing—well, Dud was forced to admit that it would be Providential!
But the measles didn’t afflict Leddy nor did Weston complain of trouble in his arm, and practice went on each day and Dud pitched or didn’t pitch but always stood in front of the net and took his turn at “looking like a silly goat,” to use his own expression, while he tried to connect with the puzzling offerings of Leddy or Weston or Brunswick.
St. James descended like a wolf on the fold on Wednesday and took Grafton’s measure without a great deal of trouble. To be sure, the game went to the fifth inning before St. James solved Leddy’s slants and by that time Grafton had herself assailed the opposing twirler for three hits and scored one run. But when the visitors did take to Leddy’s ways they took enthusiastically. Nate got through the fifth with difficulty, some brainless base-running on the part of the enemy aiding him out of a tight place, but in the sixth, after the bases were filled with only one out and two runs already across, he was retired from service and Myatt went in to save the day. And Myatt might have done it had he been backed by errorless fielding, but Nick Blake booted one in the seventh and Ayer fumbled a heave a minute later and two more runs came over. Grafton managed to add to her score in the eighth, increasing it to two when Winslow cracked out a two-bagger after Nick Blake had been passed to first and had stolen second. But that was the last of the home team’s scoring, while, just to clinch the game, St. James broke through with a couple of hits, one good for two bases, and added a fifth run in the ninth. Grafton tried everything she knew in the effort to start a rally in the last half of that inning, but the best she could do was to get Ayer as far as third base, at which station he remained while Hugh Ordway reached first on a weak infield hit that bounded erratically, and Jimmy, batting for Boynton, hit into a double, his luck for once deserting him. So 5 to 2 was the final score, and it pretty fairly represented the merits of the two teams. St. James had been there with the hits when hits meant runs and Grafton had failed to show any attack worthy the name. In view of results, it was cold comfort to know that, outside two errors and a wild pitch by Leddy, she had played an excellent defensive game. Results were what counted and another defeat had been scored up against Grafton.
That game came off on the last day but one in May, and on Friday June came in with a spell of torrid weather. The heat combined with the knowledge of impending final examinations tended to rather take the starch out of fellows, and the ball players were no exception. Practice became half-hearted, in spite of Guy Murtha’s impassioned pleas and scoldings, and when Saturday dawned things looked bad for Grafton as regarded that Lawrence Textile contest. Most of the fellows were pulling their feet behind them and wearing worried frowns. The mercury climbed up to eighty-four at noon that day and what breeze had made life bearable in the forenoon died away entirely. Lawrence arrived shortly after one o’clock and, after getting a taste of conditions in the region of Grafton, willingly consented to a postponement of the start of the game from two-thirty to three o’clock. The delay, however, was of not much avail, for at the half-hour it was just as hot as it had been at two-thirty, and the spectators went to the field armed with newspapers and fans and all sorts of devices to shield their perspiring countenances.
Coach Sargent again altered the batting order. Parker, while probably able to get in, was not used and Jimmy took his place in center field. Hugh Ordway went to third place on the list and Jimmy to seventh. Ben Myatt started the game, with Gordon behind the bat. Lawrence’s twirler was a tall, able-looking chap of about twenty years, unless appearances were deceptive, named Fairway. Nick Blake was responsible for an excruciating pun when, during Grafton’s third time at bat, he confided to Jimmy that it looked as if that pitcher was in a fair way to beat them. Jimmy charitably assumed that Nick was affected by the heat. Up to that time neither team had presented more than three men at the plate in an inning, the two pitchers going very smoothly and working the corners for all they were worth. But in that last of the third the luck broke for the home team.