The Early Bird: A Business Man's Love Story by George Randolph Chester
CHAPTER XV
THE HERO OF THE HOUR
On that very same afternoon, the youth and beauty, also the age andwisdom, of both Hollis Creek and Meadow Brook, gathered around the ballfield of the former resort, to watch the Titanic struggle for victorybetween the two picked nines. As Sam took his place behind the bat forthe first man up, who was Hollis, he felt his first touch ofself-confidence anent the strictly amusement features of summerresorting. In all the other athletic pursuits he had been backward,but here, as he smacked his fist in his glove, he felt at home.
The only thing he did not like about it, as Princeman wound himself upto deliver the first ball, was that Princeman had the position ofglory. On that gentleman the spotlight burned brightly all the time,and if they won, he would be the hero of the hour; the modest, reliablecatcher would scarcely be thought of except by the men who knew thefiner points of the game, and it was not the men whom he had in mind.Honestly and sincerely, he desired to shine before Miss JosephineStevens. She was over there at the edge of the field under an oak tree.
Before her, cavorting for her amusement, were not only Princeman andhimself, but Billy Westlake and Hollis, each of them alert for actionat this moment; for now Princeman, with a mighty twirl upon his greattoe, released the ball. It never reached Sam Turner's hands; insteadit bounced off the bat with a "crack!" and sailed right down throughBilly Westlake, who, at second, made a frantic grab for it, and then itspun out between center and right field, losing itself in the bushes,while Hollis, amid the frantic cheers of the audience, which consistedof Miss Josephine Stevens and several unconsidered other spectators,tore around the circuit. His colleagues strove wildly to hold Hollisat third, for the ball was found and was sailing over to that base. Itarrived there just as he did, but far over the head of the thirdbaseman, and fat, curly-haired Hollis, who looked like an ice wagon butran like a motorcycle, secured the first run for Hollis Creek.
The next batter was up. Princeman, his confidence loftily unshaken,gave a correct imitation of a pretzel and delivered the ball. Thebatsman swung viciously at it.
Spat! It landed in Sam's glove.
"Strike one!" called the strident voice of Blackrock, who, jerkinghimself back several years into youth again, was umpiring the game withgreat joy. Nonchalantly Sam snapped the ball back over-hand.Princeman smiled with calm superiority. He wound himself up.
Spat! The ball had cut the plate and was in Sam's hands, while thebatsman stood looking earnestly at the path over which it had come.
"Strike two!" called Blackstone.
Sam jerked the ball back with an underwrist toss of great perfection.Princeman drew himself up with smiling ease and posed a moment for theedification of the on-lookers. Sam Turner was the very first to detectthe unbearable arrogance of that pose. Princeman eyed the batsmancritically, mercilessly even, and delivered the third fatalplate-splitter.
Z-z-z-ing! The sphere slammed right out through Billy Westlake, whomade a frantic grab for it. It bounded down between center and rightfield, and the players bumped shoulders in trying to stop it. Itnestled among the bushes. The batsman tore around the bases. Hiscolleagues tried to hold him at third, for the ball was streaking inthat direction, but the batsman pawed straight on. The ball crossedthe base before he did, but it bounded between the third sacker's feet,and score two was marked up for Hollis Creek, with nobody out!
With undiminished confidence, though somewhat annoyed, Princeman made acute little knot of himself for the next batsman.
Spat! The ball landed in Sam's glove, two feet wide of the plate.
"Ball one!" called Blackstone.
Spat! In Sam's glove again, with the batsman jumping back to save hisribs.
"Ball two!" cried Blackstone.
Spat!
"Ball three."
"Put 'em over, Princeman!" yelled Billy Westlake from second.
"Don't be afraid of him! He couldn't hit it with a pillow!" jeered thethird baseman.
In a calm, superior sort of way, Mr. Princeman smiled and shot over theball.
"Four balls. Take your base!" said Mr. Blackstone, quite gently.
Reassuringly Mr. Princeman smiled upon his supporters, consisting ofMiss Josephine Stevens and some other summer resorters, and proceededto take out his revenge upon the next batter. The first two lofts weredeclared to be balls, and then Sam, catching his man playing too faroff, snapped the pill down to the nearest suburb and nailed the firstout. Encouraged by this, Princeman put over three successive strikes,and there were two gone. The next batter up, however, laced out, fortwo easy way-points, the first ball presented him. The next athletebrought him in with a single, and the next one put down a three-baggerwhich bored straight through Princeman and short stop and center field.That inglorious inning ended with a brilliant throw of Sam's to BillyWestlake at second, nipping a would-be thief who had hoped to purlointhe seventh tally for Hollis Creek.
Billy Westlake, then taking the bat, increased the Meadow Brookdepression by slapping the soft summer air three vicious spanks andretiring to think it over, and young Tilloughby bounced a feeble littlebunt square at the feet of Hollis and was tossed out at first bysomething like six furlongs. The third batsman popped up a slow, lazyfoul which gave the catcher almost plenty of time to roll a cigarettebefore it came down, and the Meadow Brook side was ignominiouslyretired. Score, six to nothing at the end of the first.
Princeman hit the first man up in the next inning and sent him down tothe initial bag, which was a flat stone, happily limping. He issuedfree transportation to the next man and let the cripple hobble on tosecond, chortling with glee. The third man went to the first stationon a measly little bunt with which Sam and Princeman and third base didsome neat and shifty foot work, and the next man up soaked out a WrightBrothers beauty among the trees over beyond left field, and cleared thebases amid the perfectly frantic rejoicing of the fickle Miss JosephineStevens and all the negligible balance of Hollis Creek. Oh, it wasdisgraceful! Sam Turner ground his teeth in impotent rage. He walkedup to Princeman.
"Say, old man," he pleaded. "We've just _got_ to settle down! We_must_ pull this game out of the fire! We _can't_ let Hollis Creekwalk away with it!"
Princeman was pale, but clutched at his fast-slipping-away nonchalancewith the grip of desperation.
"We'll hold them," he declared, and with careful deliberation he putover a ball which the next batter sent sailing right down inside theright foul line, pulling the first baseman away back almost to rightfield. Princeman stood gaping at that bingle in paralyzed dismay; butthe batsman, who was a slow runner and slow thinker, stood a fatalsecond to see whether the ball was fair or foul. Almost at the crackof the bat Sam Turner started, raced down to first, caught the rightfielder's throw and stepped on the stone, one handsome stride ahead ofthe runner! Then, as Blackrock, speechless with admiration, waved therunner out, the first mighty howl went up from Meadow Brook, and onepartisan of the Hollis Creek nine, turning her back for the momentsquarely upon her own colors, led the cheering. Sam heard her voice.It was a solo, while all the rest of the cheering was a faintaccompaniment, and with such elation as comes only to the heroes invictorious battle, he trotted back to his place and caught three ballsand three strikes on the next batter. Also, the next one went out on apop fly which Sam was able to catch.
In their half Princeman redeemed himself in part by a three baggerwhich brought in two scores, and the second inning ended at ten tothree in favor of Hollis Creek.
Confident and smiling, reinforced by the memory of his three bagger,Princeman took the mount for the beginning of the third, and with hiscompliments he suavely and politely presented a base to the first manup. A groan arose from all Meadow Brook. The second batsman shot astinger to Princeman, who dropped it, and that batsman immediatelythereafter roosted on first, crowing triumphantly; but the hot linerallowed Princeman a graceful opportunity. He complained of a badlyhurt finger on his pitching hand. He called time while he held
What need to tell of the balance of that game; of the calm, easy,one-two-three work of the invincible Turner battery; of the brilliantbase throwing and fielding of Turner and Turner, and their mighty swatswhen they came to bat? You know how the game turned out. Anybodywould know. It ended in a triumph for Meadow Brook at the end of theseventh inning, which is all any summer resort game ever goes, and twoinnings more than most, by a total and glorious score of twenty-one toseventeen. And who were the heroes of the hour, as smilingly butmodestly they strode from the diamond? Who, indeed, but Jack Turnerand Sam Turner; and by token of their victory, after receiving thefrenzied plaudits of all Meadow Brook and the generous plaudits of allHollis Creek, they marched in triumph from the field, one on eitherside of Miss Josephine Stevens! Where now were Hollis and Princemanand Billy Westlake? Nowhere! They were forgotten of men, ignored ofwomen, and the laurels of sweet victory rested upon the brow of busySam Turner!