Part 19 (1/2)
”Home-run Hicks--he made a home-run--!”--”Put Hicks in the game, Captain Butch--he will win it.”--”Watch Hicks--he'll pull someplay!”--”Bring home the Champions.h.i.+p, but--lose Hicks somewhere!”
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., as the battered engine of the jit. yielded to old Dan's cranking, and kindly consented to start, surveyed the yelling students, seized a bat, and struck an att.i.tude which he fatuously believed was that of Ty Cobb, about to make a hit; taking advantage of a lull in the tumult, the lovable youth howled at the hilarious crowd:
”Just leave it to Hicks! I will win the game and the Champions.h.i.+p, for my Alma Mater, and--I'll do it by my headwork!”
CHAPTER XVIII
T. HAVILAND HICKS, JR'S. HEADWORK
”Play Ball! Say, Bannister, are youto play?”
”Call the game, Mr. Ump.--make 'em play ball!”
”Batter up! Forfeit the game to Ballard, Umpire!”
”Lend 'em Ballard's bat-boy-to make a full nine!”
Captain Butch Brewster, his honest countenance, as a moving-picture director would express it, ”registering wrathful dismay,” lumbered toward the Ballard Field concrete dug-out, in which the Gold and Green players had entrenched themselves, while from the stands, the Ballard cohorts vociferated their intense impatience at the inexplicable delay.
”We haveto play,” he raged, striding up and down before the bench.
”The game is ten minutes late now, and the crowd is restless! And here we have only'Varsity players, and no one to make the ninth--not even a sub.! Oh, I could--”
”That brainless Skeet Wigglesworth!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., who, arrayed like a lily of the field, reposed his splinter-structure on the bench with his comrades. ”In some way, he managed tothat train from Baltimore! They didn't come on the noon C, N. & Q. train, and there isn't another one until night. My directions were as plain as a German war-map, and it beats me how Skeet got befuddled!”
Gloom, as thick and abysmal as a London fog, hovered over the Bannister dug-out. On the concrete bench, the seven Gold and Green athletes, Beef, Monty, Roddy, Biff, Ichabod, Don, and Cherub, with Team Manager T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., stared silently at Captain Butch Brewster, who seemed in imminent peril of exploding. Something probably never before heard of in the annals of athletic history had happened. Bannister College, about to play Ballard the big game for the State Champions.h.i.+p, had lost a short-stop and five subst.i.tutes, in some unfathomable manner, and it was impossible to round up one other member of the Gold and Green baseball squad. True, a hundred loyal alumni were in the stands, but onlystudents, of course, were eligible to play the game, and--the Faculty ruling had kept them at old Bannister!
”Here comes Ballard's Manager,” spoke Beef McNaughton, as a brisk, clean-cut youth advanced, a yellow envelope in hand. ”Why, he has a telegram. Do you suppose Skeet actually hadenough to wire an explanation?”
”Telegram for Captain Brewster!” announced the Ballard collegian, giving the message to that surprised behemoth. ”It was sent in my care--collect, and the sender, name of Wigglesworth, fired one to me personally, telling me to deliver this one to Captain Butch Brewster, and collect from Team Manager Hicks--he surely didn't bother to save money! I've been out of town, and just got back to the campus; of course, the telegrams could not be delivered to anyone but me, hence the delay.”
Big Butch, thanking the Ballard Team Manager, and a.s.suring him that the charges he had paid would be advanced to him after the game, ripped open the yellow envelope, and drew out the message. Like a thunder-storm gathering on the horizon, a dark expression came to good Butch's countenance, and when he had perused the lengthy telegram, he transfixed the startled and bewildered T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., with an angry glare:
”Bonehead!” he raged, apparently controlling himself with a superhuman effort. ”Oh, you lunatic, you wretch, villain--you----”
To the supreme amazement and dismay of the puzzled Hicks, Beef, next in line, afterhad scanned Skeet's telegram, followed Butch's example, forglowered at the perturbed youth, and heaped condemnations on his devoted head. And so on down the line on the bench, until Monty, Roddy, Biff, Ichabod, Don, and Cherub, reading the message, joined in gazing indignantly at their gladsome Team Manager, who, as the eight aroseand advanced on him, sought to flee the wrath to come.
”Safety first!” quoth T, Haviland Hicks, Jr. ”'Mine not to reason why, mine but to haste and fly,' or--be crushed! Ouch! Beef, Monty--have a heart!”
Captured by Beef and Monty Merriweather, as he frantically scrambled up the steps of the concrete dug-out, the grinning Hicks was held in the firm grasp of that behemoth, Butch Brewster, aided by the skysc.r.a.per Ichabod, while Cherub Challoner thrust the telegram before his eyes. In words of fire that burned themselves into his brain--something his colleagues denied he possessed--T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., saw the explanation of Skeet Wigglesworth's missing the train from Baltimore that A. M. Dazed, the sunny youth read the message on which over-charges must be paid:
”Hicks--you bonehead! The time-table of the C.N. & Q. you gave me was an old one--schedule revised two weeks ago! Train now leaves Balto. at 6.55 A.M.! When we got to station at 7.05 A.M. she had went! No train to Ballard till night! I and subs, had to wire Bannister for money to get back on!
You mis-manager--theyou boasted of is boneheadwork! Pay the charges on this, you brainless insect! I'll send it to Butch, for you'd never show it to him if I sent it to you! Indignantly--
”SKEET.”
”Mis-manager is !” seethed Captain Butch, for once in his campus career really wrathy at the lovable Hicks. ”We are in a fix--eight players, and the crowd howling for the game to start. Oh, I could jump overboard, and drag you with me!”
”Bonehead! Bonehead!” chorused the Gold and Green players, indignantly.