Part 9 (1/2)

Brother Lu read the article again from beginning to end. Then he smote his knee with his open palm several times, and they could actually hear him chuckle, as if he might be highly amused. All this rather puzzled Jim, who had fully antic.i.p.ated seeing the intruder making a bee-line for the railroad. Perhaps he even began to wonder whether, after all, he might not have ”laid it on a little thicker”

when writing up that story about the grim Texan marshal.

Presently Matilda was heard calling to Brother Lu, who, leaving his hammock, sauntered into the house with all the airs of one who had arranged to take life easy from that time on.

”Hey! let's beat it,” mumbled the keenly disappointed Jim Pettigrew.

”I've got heaps to do at the office; and I seem to tumble to the fact that, after all, our big game didn't pan out just as was expected.”

Thad did not have a single word to say just then. He was, in fact, too dazed to collect his thoughts. But Hugh's active mind was grappling with the matter, and he apparently seemed able to figure things out.

They retreated in a strategic fas.h.i.+on, so that possibly no one was the wiser for their having been behind the bushes, unless Brother Lu chanced to take a notion to peep from behind some fluttering white dimity curtain.

”Well, what does it all mean, do you know, Hugh?” finally burst out Thad, after they had gone far enough away to make it safe to talk in ordinary tones.

”I think I have guessed why he seemed so tickled after reading the article which we figured would give him such a bad scare,” said Hugh, with a grim smile. ”The fact of the matter is he hoodwinked me when he told such whopping yarns about the terrible sheriff of the oil regions. There may be such a chap, all right, but his name isn't Hastings by a long shot. He just invented that name, you see; and when he read Jim's article about his being up here, he tumbled to the game.”

”Oh! it's rotten luck!” groaned Thad; ”after all that beautiful strategy we've fallen down flat. No use talking, Hugh. Jim, that fellow is a sticker, and it begins to look as if he couldn't be budged or pried loose with a crowbar. But I'm not the one to give a thing up because I've failed once or twice; just wait till I get my third wind, and I'll settle Brother Lu's hash for him!”

So they wandered back to town, sadder but wiser from their new experience.

CHAPTER XII

SCRANTON FANS HAVE A PAINFUL SHOCK

The nine from Mechanicsburg showed up that afternoon on time. They were a husky-looking lot of young chaps, accustomed to hard toil in the mills, and with muscles that far outcla.s.sed the high-school boys. But, as every one knows, it requires something more than mere brawn to win baseball games; often a club that seems to be weak develops an astonis.h.i.+ng amount of skill with bat and ball, and easily walks off with the victory.

Mechanicsburg was ”out for blood” from the very start. They depended a great deal on their slugging abilities, and declared that no pitcher the Scranton players might offer could resist their terrific onslaught.

When the first inning was over at last it began to look as if their boast might be made good, for the score stood five to one. Frazer was in the box for Scranton, Hugh not wis.h.i.+ng to use his star pitcher unless it was absolutely necessary. He was a bit afraid that something might happen to Tyree that would put him on the bench and thus they would be terribly handicapped in their first game with Allandale on the following Sat.u.r.day.

Now, Frazer was a pretty dependable sort of a slab artist, and if the Scranton boys had not had Alan Tyree they might have believed him a Number One. But while Frazer had a number of good curves and drops, and a pretty fair amount of speed, he seemed only able to deceive those huskies from Mechanicsburg in spurts.

Between times they got at him for successive drives that netted two and three bases each. Indeed, in that very first inning the fielders of the home team were kept on the jump at a lively rate chasing smas.h.i.+ng blows. To tell the truth, all three outs were made on enormous flies that seemed to go up almost to the very clouds, and gave ”K.K.” out in the middle garden, and ”Just” Smith, who had charge of left field, a big run each time before they could get their hands on and hold the ball.

In the second time at bat the visitors did not do as much. Perhaps Frazer managed to tighten up, and pitch better ball. He was very erratic, and could never be depended on to do consecutive good work.

In every other inning the heavies could not seem to gauge his work at all, and he mowed them down. Then they would come at him again like furies, and knock his offerings to every part of the field as though he might be an amateur in the box.

Hugh watched the fluctuations of the game with more or less solicitude.

They could hardly afford to be beaten by a team like Mechanicsburg, he figured, as he saw Frazer ”fall down” for the third time, and a catastrophe threaten.

It was the sixth inning.

Scranton had done more or less scoring on her side, so that the figures were mounting rapidly, and it promised to be an old-fas.h.i.+oned batting bee. It now stood nine to twelve in favor of the visitors; and as they had started another of their rallies no one could say what the result might be by the time Scranton once more came to bat.

There was a small but noisy delegation from the other town present, and they kept things pretty lively most of the time, cheering their fellows, and hooting the slightest opportunity when Scranton failed to connect, or one of the high-school boys did not make a gilt-edged pickup.

Nor were the Mechanicsburg rooters alone in this jeering. As usually happens, there were a number of fellows in Scranton who entertained feelings of jealousy toward the local nine, based on an idea that they had been purposely overlooked when the choice of players was made.

Chief among these malcontents was the town bully, Nick Lang, whose acquaintance the reader has already made in a previous volume, and under exciting conditions. Nick at one time had a good chance of making the nine, for he was a hustler when it came to playing ball, and indeed, in nearly every sport; but as might be expected, he managed to display his nasty temper in practice, and Coach Saunders, who heartily disliked and distrusted the big fellow, speedily turned him down.