“Perhaps it may improve in a day or so. I intend to exercise it, gently at first, and then harder, so as to limber it up. I tell you one thing, boys, I am going to play under any circumstances. All I fear is that my wrist will be weak and injure my work.”
“Can’t we have the game postponed?” asked Tony.
“Certainly not,” answered Ray. “The Park men would never consent to it. If they got any wind of the truth they would insist on having the game, and one disabled man is not a sufficient excuse for postponement. They would simply laugh at us for proposing such a thing.”
“Then I am going to pray for rain,” said Tony so solemnly that we could not help laughing.
“Well, Harry, we must make the best of it,” said Ray. “Use your liniment and exercise your wrist as much as you can without hurting it. It may come out better than we think. I will get Raymond, the Freshman pitcher, out to-morrow, so as to have him ready and in some sort of condition by Saturday. Do the other fellows know about it?”
“No,” I answered.
“Well, they might better know to-morrow than later,” said Ray. “It would only discourage them to tell them at the last moment. We must make up our minds to accept the circumstances, and make as good a fight as we can.”
During the next two days my wrist improved perceptibly, but far too slowly for our plans; and as Friday night approached, I was compelled to face the fact that I would be able to pitch but a very weak game the next day.
Thursday and Friday had been days of anxiety and suspense to me, constantly alternating, as I was, between hope and discouragement; and when Friday evening came, and I found my wrist still stiff and weak, I was almost ready to cry with vexation. To Ray’s inquiries I made as encouraging responses as possible; but while I spoke of pitching the next day, I knew in my heart that my efforts would prove scarcely more than a dead weight on the rest of the team, and I feared the results would only be disastrous. My hopes of our winning the championship, or of even making a respectable record, seemed to have taken their departure; and it was with sadly depressed spirits that I went to bed Friday evening, and tried to get the long night’s rest which was needed to refresh us for the next day’s struggle.
From a heavy dreamless sleep I was suddenly awakened by the sound of someone hammering upon my door. I sat up in a dazed state, wondering who could be disturbing me at such an hour. My curtains were drawn, and I had no means of knowing what time it was, but I seemed to have slept but a short while, and I fancied it could scarcely be more than midnight. Meanwhile the hammering grew more vociferous, and I heard a voice, which seemed familiar, shouting outside: