Part 6 (1/2)
”We'll have to practice for the next three days,” said Bart at noon recess. ”I'll have to get my new glove limbered up, and, Lem, you'll have to think up some new curves.”
”Yes, I need practice all right,” responded the pitcher. ”Suppose we have a scrub game this afternoon?”
”That suits me,” replied Bart.
When school was over a picked nine prepared to give battle to the regular one in order to bring out the weak points.
”Don't you think we ought to have a subst.i.tute pitcher?” asked Lem, as he prepared to go into the box.
”You aren't afraid of breaking down, are you?” asked Bart anxiously.
”No, only you never can tell what is going to happen.”
”Here you go, Stumpy!” called Bart as his chum was tossing the ball to the right-fielder in the warming-up practice.
Fenn sent the leather spheroid toward the catcher with all the strength of his arm. Bart caught it on his heavy glove. As he did so he called in a low voice to Lem, and the two held a whispered conversation.
”Do you think he can do it?” Lem asked.
”Yes, if we spring it on him suddenly and don't give him a chance to get nervous. That's Stumpy's main fault. But I'm hoping there'll be no need for it.”
”Well, I'll do my best,” responded Lem.
The practice game was started, and several weak points developed in the regular high school nine. But Bart was not discouraged. There had been little opportunity for games, of late, and the boys were a trifle slow.
He coached them along, suggesting improvements and offering words of advice to some players.
”Good!” cried the captain to Frank, who made a brilliant catch in center field. Frank was playing on the scrub nine. ”You'll be a regular if you keep on.”
Frank was not a natural baseball player. His forte was football, but once in a while he made brilliant plays on the nine, when he took some other player's place.
”A couple of days more like this and we'll be fit to give 'em all they want, to beat us,” remarked Bart as the boys gathered up the b.a.l.l.s, bats and gloves preparatory to going home.
”If we only could beat 'em!” exclaimed Ned.
”If we hold 'em to a tie I'll be satisfied,” retorted Bart. ”That's something no high school nine has ever done to 'em.”
For the next two afternoons there was hard practice. On one occasion Bart called on Stumpy to take the pitcher's box, Lem making an excuse that he wanted to rest his arm. Stumpy wondered at this, as Sandy Merton was the one who usually subst.i.tuted for Lem. But this time Sandy was left on third, his regular position.
Fenn had no idea he could pitch. He knew he could send in a straight ball, and he did this in practice. When Lem came back in the box on one occasion after Stumpy had been filling it, he asked in a low tone of Bart:
”Will he do?”
”I think so, but don't say anything.”
The morning of the game the Darewell nine a.s.sembled before school, on the campus and indulged in some fast practice. The contest was to take place on the Preparatory school grounds, and in answer to a general pet.i.tion Professor McCloud agreed to dismiss all cla.s.ses an hour earlier that day to enable the journey to be made.
The nine and the subst.i.tutes went over in a big stage but the boys and girls who were to be spectators took trolley cars that ran close to the grounds.
”They're a husky looking lot,” observed Bart as the stage dropped its load close to the diamond, and he observed the other nine on the field.