[CHAPTER X—PLAYING THE GAME]
| “Hear ye a little lesson—can ye the truth divine? Milk ye may mix with water, and water will mix with wine; Mix as ye may on your prairies, mix in your hope and toil, But know in all your mixing that water won’t mix with oil!” The Empire Builders. |
With only one run to the good, Harry Grant in the pitcher’s box, the bases full and nobody out, the finish of the ninth inning in the last game of the Dominion Day tournament looked gloomy enough for Plainville. The sun was gilding the crest of a great cloud which was already casting its shadow over the prairie, the air was close and hot, the band had long since exhausted their repertoire, and its members, big-lipped from their day’s exertions, gazed dry-throated at the tragedy on the diamond; the Plainville backers, who all day long had placed their two to one on the home team, were stamping up and down behind the ropes that winged the grounds, chewing their cigars and swearing vaguely. The “rooting” was over; there is a point beyond which no loyalty can “root”; the situation was too dramatic for speech. Even the supporters of the opposing team were too excited to hollo, they had holloed all day against discouraging odds, and now, when a little lung power might well have been brought to the support of their favourites, they found themselves voiceless from sheer exhaustion and surprise.
In a buggy facing the grounds from the right fielder’s corner sat Gardiner and Miss Vane. The bright face and the electric mouth seemed intent upon the game before them, but in the eyes was a hollow look that might have told any keen observer the brain was wandering in far fields.
“It’s bad,” said Gardiner. “The worst possible. He can never climb out of that hole.”
“At any rate he will try,” said the girl, absently. “You think he will run away?”
Gardiner turned and looked at his companion quizzically. She gave a little start and a flush stole through the deep ivory of her cheeks and forehead. “I—I beg your pardon,” she stammered. “I was thinking.”
“You are thinking too much. If I had known it would spoil your day’s enjoyment I would not have told you.”
“How could you think otherwise? You know he was, that is, he is, our friend.”
“Just a friend—is that all?” Gardiner pressed the question.