Part 13 (1/2)
”Listen to this, Siebold.” Dixon leaned over the table. ”Brown says we've got pitching material----”
”Well, what of it? Don't I know it?”
”It's a blamed sure bet he doesn't know it, or if he does he ought to be jailed for conspiracy to beat the school team,” laughed Bill, still addressing Dixon.
”How's that, Brown? What's your dope?” ventured Sadler, who alone really dared to question Siebold's authority. Bill went on, in forcible language, for he was aware that Siebold was listening, and repeated what he had said to Mr. Gay and to Dixon. The argument about every one in the school being interested in the success of the ball team seemed to strike home, and several boys gathering round began to make comments favorable to the sentiment. The librarian came over and objected to the talking.
”Let's go down to the gym and talk this thing over,” said Sadler. ”Brown will spring this man on us if we'll try him--eh, Brown?”
”Why, sure,” said Bill, rising.
”Come on, Siebold.”
”Too busy reading. Nothing to it, anyway.” Siebold didn't even look up from his book.
”Is that so?” Sadler was angry. It was evident that he was willing to oppose the captain. Bill thought he saw an opportunity right here.
”He has only one vote,” he said, ”and I understand that all of us who care to may have a say. I know several fellows who----”
Bill got no further. Siebold began to see that it might be best to permit no defection from his ranks and no outside interference. He followed the others out and across the campus, no word being said all the way by the several boys who, in part, made up the executive committee on baseball. They filed into the gym and got Mr. Gay into their conference.
”Now, then, Brown, what have you got under your skin?” said Siebold testily.
”You heard me in the library,” said Bill.
”Balderdas.h.!.+ There isn't a fellow in the school who can pitch like Maxwell.”
”Oh, yes, there is, Siebold,” said Mr. Gay. ”There's no one who can play first base like Maxwell and your first baseman says he has a gla.s.s arm and is done. We have a pitcher who can pitch.”
”That's the cheese!” said Maxwell. ”I've told Siebold all along he ought to replace me.”
”Who is this wonderful guy?” asked Siebold.
”I'll bet it's that other fellow from Freeport,” put in one of the captain's staunch supporters.
”Call it off in that case,” Siebold demanded.
”No, we won't call it off. We'll try him at practice,” said Sadler.
”Who's captain of this team? We'll play in our present positions, all of us, or we won't play at all.”
”That's right,” echoed two or three followers. Bill laughed.
”Will you accept a challenge to play a school scrub team?”
”No, nor that. Waste of time----”
”That's nothing but silly stubbornness,” said Sadler, with rising wrath.
”Wouldn't it be just like practice? You're a fatheaded----”