CHAPTER XVIII

WYNDHAM WINS

Possibly the school janitor remained behind in Cotterville that Saturday, but certainly every one else connected with Wolcott Academy made the journey to Freeburg. Oh, well, of course the Principal didn’t come, and a few of the other members of the faculty may have been absent, but no one missed them. The invading horde arrived by train and by motor, flaunting brown banners bearing the white Old English W, brown arm-bands, brown megaphones and brown ties. It took possession of the town’s few lunch rooms and overflowed from the Inn. It wandered about the streets and over the school grounds in bunches of two or more, slightly patronizing, high-spirited and extremely confident. And at two o’clock it filled the third base stand and ran over onto the turf where it occupied a few settees filched from the gymnasium or disposed itself on the ground. By that time eight pitchers had warmed up in spite of the well-known fact that Ogden, for Wyndham, and Osterman, for Wolcott, were to start the engagement. When, at a few minutes after two of a cloudy, somewhat muggy afternoon, the Dark Blue trotted into the field Jeff Ogden went to the mound and the other three Wyndham pitchers retired to the bench. Save that Risley was catching, the Wyndham team was the same aggregation that had been beaten a week before by Horner. One Clifton Bingham, recently recruited member of the squad, sat very comfortably in the shade of the first base stand and had nothing to do save look on and enjoy the game. In view of which it may seem strange that his countenance expressed nothing that looked like appreciation!

Considering that that contest was a pitcher’s battle from beginning to end, and that just one run was scored, it would be futile for me to pretend that it was, as some games are, a breathless, nerve-wracking affair. Of course, if you are extremely partisan and somewhat emotional you can derive excitement from almost any contest in which your team takes part, and the audience to-day must have been both, for it shouted, sang, howled, waved flags, megaphones, hats and score sheets and acted decidedly concerned during nine innings. And since, as already hinted, the afternoon was one of those afternoons when just to turn around induces perspiration, some eight or nine hundred spectators were reduced to a breathless, wilted mass long before the last man was retired.

Because in a series of two-out-of-three the capture of the first game brings a distinct advantage to the victor, both teams wanted to-day’s contest hard and went after it. Each started its best pitcher and strongest batting list. Both Ogden and Osterman were left-handers, but the similarity went little further. Jeff was a sizeable youth, but Osterman was all of six feet tall, big-boned, lanky, long-armed, awkward in everything save pitching. He was held to be Ogden’s superior as a twirler, and his record showed it. He was a fast-ball artist first and foremost, but he owned a few good curves. Like most left-hand pitchers he could on occasion become exceedingly wild.

Wolcott’s first batsman reached first when Van Dyke fumbled Tyson’s peg across the diamond. The ball trickled toward the stand, and the runner made the mistake of trying to get to second. Van recovered in time to throw him out to Hurry. A hit to left field followed, and when Risley threw to second to head off a steal Tom let the ball get through him and the runner went on to third and Wolcott howled gleefully. The third batsman flied out to Hurry. Jeff Ogden landed the ball against the next man’s shoulder and he went to first. When he started for second Risley threw to shortstop and Hurry made a wonderful return to the plate in time to cut off the runner from third. One hit, two errors, no runs.

For Wyndham, Pat Tyson hit between first and second and stole a minute later. Greene struck out and so did Hurry Leland. Returning the compliment, Osterman put the ball against Gus Risley’s ribs, and he took his base. With two down and two on, the best Raiford could do was foul out to Van Dyke. One hit, no errors, no runs.

Again Wolcott’s first batter hit safely, although Hurry made a gallant try. The runner went no further than first, however, for succeeding men were disposed of by left fielder, third baseman――Tyson ran far for that foul――and pitcher. That was Jeff’s first strike-out. Wyndham went out in one-two-three order, Osterman fanning Tom and Van Dyke, and Talbott hitting straight into first baseman’s hands.

Tom made a neat capture of a grounder in the third and assisted at the first out. Foul catches by Van Dyke and Risley retired the enemy side. For Wyndham Ogden struck out on three pitched balls and Tyson flied to left field. Greene got the first pass of the game and went to third when Captain Leland singled across that bag. Wyndham shouted imploringly for a score. Risley hit to shortstop and the latter cut off Greene at the plate.

Wolcott opened the fourth in a manner that caused the home team supporters extreme distress. The first batter, after Jeff had got into a hole, landed on a straight ball and drove it over Talbott’s head for three bags. Had the runner been a bit faster that hit might have become a home-run, and, even as it was, many questioned the wisdom of the coacher on third when he held up the runner there. Ogden struck out the next ambitious youth, but the subsequent batsman drove a hot one to Van Dyke. Van made a neat stop and pegged to the plate, and Wolcott’s hope was shattered. Risley blocked the runner cleverly. A minute later Gus again earned a cheer when he threw down to Tom and spoiled the steal. Wyndham expressed relief by prolonged cheering.

The Dark Blue was also due with a sensation in that inning, for after Raiford had gone out at first, first baseman to pitcher, Tom came across with an exact duplicate of the enemy’s shot into left, landing much tuckered on third base. But――and the game was duplicating oddly――he, too, failed to score, since Talbott hit a fly to first baseman and Van Dyke’s effort to center was an easy catch.

Ogden fielded to Van Dyke for the first Wolcott out in the fifth, the next batsman hit to left and later stole second cleverly, and the next fell victim to Jeff’s curves. A hit would still have meant a tally, but a long fly to right field ended the suspense. It was in the last of the fifth that Wyndham broke through the Brown’s defense at last, and it was Ogden who paved the way. Jeff wasn’t a hitter――few pitchers are, of course――and Osterman had disposed of him with ridiculous ease before. But this time Jeff laid back and wouldn’t be coaxed to swing at the wide ones, with the result that before any one quite realized it Osterman had wasted three balls and had but one strike on Jeff. Jeff may not have had much hope of hitting the next offer, but it was straight and fast and he swung. The ball arched into left field and put Jeff on second, quite a bit surprised, probably! Pat Tyson landed on the first offering and slammed it at Osterman who knocked it down and fielded it to first for the out. But Ogden was by that time safe on third, and Wyndham was making Rome howl. The coachers behind first and third shouted and cavorted, the crowd on each side of the diamond yelled and the Wolcott players babbled. And, apparently, the temperature shot up from around eight-four to somewhere around a hundred-and-four!

A sacrifice fly would go a long way toward winning that game, and doubtless the thought occurred to Coach Connover. Al Greene was the next man on the Wyndham list, and Al had not yet touched the ball with his bat, even to make a foul. The best he had done was to draw a pass on the occasion of his last appearance. So right there Greene’s connection with the team was temporarily severed, and a rather nervous youth selected a bat, listened to Steve’s instructions and stepped to the plate. The umpire waved his mask in a request for silence and announced:

“For Wyndham, Bingham batting in place of Greene!”

I’ve stated that Clif was nervous, and so he was, but he tried very hard not to let the enemy battery surmise the fact, and he succeeded. First of all, after carefully annexing a sufficient amount of loam to his hands, he bid for the catcher’s respect by moving his bat behind him in a way to suggest that the catcher had best move back a couple of inches. The catcher accepted the suggestion and wondered what this unknown would like to have served to him. Having no dope on any one named Bingham, he had to stop wondering and call for a couple of inquiries. The first inquiry was an in-curve, and Clif looked it over attentively and retired a foot from the plate to let it by. The next was a high ball on the outside, and Clif let that alone, too, the umpire indorsing his judgment. Then Osterman let go with a fast one, knee high, and the count was two and one. The next was much the same and had little on it except a slight drop. Clif liked it and swung his bat against it and sped to first. Out in center field a youth with brown sleeves ran in a few yards, pulled the ball to him, set himself quickly and pegged to second baseman. And second baseman threw desperately home. But no one save a one-legged man with inflammatory rheumatism could have failed to score on that play, and Jeff, while his arm might be slightly weary by now, had full use of his legs. Long before the ball had settled into center fielder’s hands the Wyndham rooters were on their feet――or their neighbors’――hailing the tally! Jeff romped across the plate yards ahead of the ball and somewhat more than half the audience went stark, staring mad!

Then Captain Leland did just what Clif had done, sending a long fly to center fielder, and the fifth, the wonderful fifth inning was over. And Wyndham was one beautiful big run to the good!

Well, so far as scoring was concerned that ended the game, for although there were anxious moments during the succeeding four innings, never again did either contestant get a man as far as third base. Both Ogden and Osterman tightened up and pitched headier ball than they had been pitching, and both infields played better. Wyndham got three more scattered hits and Wolcott four――including a scratch――but not one led to a tally. Neither Tom nor Clif hit again. Tom twice lifted flies to the outfield, and Clif, up but once more, in the seventh, was an easy out, pitcher to first base. It was in the first of the seventh that Wolcott made her biggest threat. Then her first man hit past Tyson for one and took second on a sacrifice out. Tom’s fast handling of a liner killed him at third. Tom also had the honor of bringing the game to a joyful close when he ran well into the outfield and caught a Texas Leaguer.

Loring’s score book showed, when it was all over and the tumult and the shouting had died, that Wyndham had made seven hits to Wolcott’s eight and three errors to the opponent’s two. But it also showed that she had won the game. A comparison of the rival pitchers showed that Osterman had struck out five men to Ogden’s four, had issued two passes to Ogden’s one and, like the latter, had hit one batsman. At the bat, however, Jeff had had far the best of the encounter, since, while Osterman had made no hits at all, Jeff had slammed out a two-bagger and subsequently scored the only run.

All this was discussed and rediscussed that evening wherever two or more delighted Wyndham fellows came together. And with it was discussed also the outlook for the next contest. For instance, Loring is holding forth to an audience composed of Tom, Clif and Mr. Cooper: “Tuesday’s game will be a lot different. In the first place both teams will have to put in pitchers not so good as to-day’s. I guess Mr. Connover will start with Moore. Moore’s a left-hander, too, and he will probably argue that if Wolcott couldn’t hit a left-hander to-day she won’t be able to do much better Tuesday. Still, he might start Erlingby. In any case, our pitcher’s going to be hit a heap harder than he was to-day, for those fellows are batters! And we’ll be hitting more, too, probably, for whoever Wolcott puts in against us will be easier pickings than Osterman. We didn’t do badly to-day, I’ll say, for Osterman’s a mighty good twirler. Anyhow, Tuesday’s game will be a batting fest, and the side which bats the hardest will win. We will be on the other fellow’s field, too, and that’s against us somewhat. I don’t know how Tuesday’s game is going to come out, but I do know that it’s going to be a harder game to score than to-day’s was! You’re going, aren’t you, Mr. Cooper?”

Mr. Cooper nodded, and the many little wrinkles about his eyes danced. “Try to keep me away,” he answered.