Baseball Joe on the School Nine; or, Pitching for the Blue Banner

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XII

  ON THE SCRUB

  "It doesn't take Peaches long to make up his mind," remarked Tom.

  "No, he's always right on the job," agreed Teeter.

  "It's mighty good of him--and all of you--to go to all this trouble andfuss on my account," added Joe. "I appreciate it, too."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Teeter, as he balanced himself on his toes to seeif it was safe to indulge in any more cheese and ginger snaps. "We'reglad to do it. I only hope you do make the team, and pitch, at that."

  "If I can pitch on the scrub, I'll be satisfied for a while."

  "We want to make Excelsior the best nine in the league this year," wenton Teeter. "We've got to have the Blue Banner, and one way we can cinchit is to have a good pitcher."

  "Thanks!" laughed Joe.

  "Well, I mean it," resumed Teeter, helping himself to a handful of thecrisp snaps. "That's where our weak point was last season. Many a gamewe gave away after we had it practically won, just because our pitcherswent up in the air. And I'm afraid it'll be the same now. Frank Brownisn't much, unless he's improved a whole lot over season, and I don'tbelieve he has. And as for Larry Akers--well, he's only a makeshift.Now, I'd like to see----"

  But Teeter's little talk was interrupted by the sound of footsteps inthe corridor outside. For a moment the lads gazed anxiously at eachother, and Tom made a grab for one of the fake books, but a look ofrelief came over their faces when the door opened and Peaches entered,followed by some one.

  "I brought Ward with me," explained the lad with the fair complexion."Thought it was the safest way. Come on in, Ward; I guess these Indianshaven't scalped all the grub."

  "Yes, fall to," invited Teeter. "There's plenty."

  "Charmed, I'm sure," murmured Ward with an assumed society air.

  "You know Joe Matson, of course," went on Peaches.

  "Oh, sure. He beat me in physics class the other week and I haven'tforgotten it."

  "He wants to pitch on the scrub," went on the originator of the scheme."He's all to the mustard, too, and----"

  "Say, let me say a word for myself," put in Joe. "I'm not a politicalcandidate in the hands of my friends. Is there a show for me on thescrub, Ward?"

  "Well, I haven't made up the team yet, and you're the first applicantfor pitcher, so you'll have first choice."

  "Then it's as good as settled!" declared Peaches. "When do you make upthe team, Ward?"

  "To-morrow, I guess. I'll put you down as first pitcher, Joe, and I hopeyou can throw a scare into the school team--not because I'm not on itmyself, but the better opposition they have, the better they'll play forthe banner."

  "What about Hiram?" asked Tom. "Won't he kick up a fuss if he knowsyou've got Joe? And what about Luke?"

  "Say, I'm running the scrub!" exclaimed Ward. "They haven't anything tosay after I take charge. What I say goes!"

  "That's right," agreed Teeter. "I'll do Hiram that much justice. Henever interferes with the scrub after the season starts. Neither doesLuke. They have their hands full managing their own players."

  "Then I guess I'll get a chance to pitch," murmured Joe, and he washappier than he had been in some time. It was only a small beginning,but it was a start, and that meant a good deal.

  Ward Gerard, whom Joe and Tom did not know very well, turned out to be agood-natured and pleasant companion. He was one of the new arrivals atthe school, but already stood well in his classes and on the athleticfield. Football was his specialty, but he was none the less a goodbaseball player and might have made the first team had he tried harder.

  The boys talked of the diamond until the booming of the big school clockwarned them that they had better get to bed; so with good-nights anda renewed promise on the part of Ward to place Joe in the box, theconference broke up.

  "Oh, things are coming your way slowly," remarked Tom, as he and Joereached their room, having successfully dodged a prying monitor on thelook-out for rule violators.

  "Yes, and now I've got to make good."

  "You can do that easily enough. You always have. And when the threemonths are up I'm going to make my motion over again, and I'll bet we'llelect you as regular pitcher."

  "I guess you forget that when the three months are up the Summer vacationwill be here and the nine will be out of business," remarked Joe. "No,I've got to work my own way, I guess."

  There were some murmurs of surprise when it was announced the next daythat Joe Matson was to be the scrub pitcher. Friends of rival candidatesurged their claims on Ward, but he stuck to his promise and the placewent to Joe.

  "Did Hiram or Luke say anything when you told them?" asked Tom of thescrub captain.

  "Oh, yes--a little."

  "What was it?"

  "Nothing very pleasant, so don't repeat it to Joe, but Hiram wanted toknow why I didn't pick out a decent fellow to pitch against the firstteam, and Luke remarked that Joe would be knocked out of the box in thefirst practice game, and that I'd have to get some one else."

  "Oh, Luke said that, did he?" asked Tom, and there was a look ofsmothered anger in his eyes.

  "Yes, and then some more."

  "Just wait until the first game--that's all," requested Tom quietly. "Ifthey knock Joe Matson out of the box it will be the first time it'shappened since he found that he was a real pitcher."

  "There are some pretty good batters on the first team," warned Ward.

  "That's the kind Joe likes," replied his chum. "Just you wait; that'sall."

  It was the day for the first regular practice between the scrub andfirst teams. For several afternoons Joe had been pitching to BobHarrison, who often acted as the scrub catcher, and as there was so muchother individual playing going on no one had paid much attention to thework of our hero.

  "Say, I think we've got a 'find' all right," announced Bob to Ward, justbefore the practice game was called.

  "How so?" asked the scrub captain.

  "Why, that Matson can sting 'em in for further orders, and he's got someof the prettiest curves that ever came over the plate. The Hiram-Lukecrowd is going to sit up and take notice, take it from yours truly."

  "I'm glad of it!" declared Ward. "We'll do our best to beat 'em, and itwill be for their own good. They're soft, naturally at the beginning ofthe season, and so are we, but if we can wallop 'em, so much the better.Have you and Joe got your signals down?"

  "Yes, he's better at that than I am. He must have played some prettygood games."

  "So Sister Davis says. Well, here they come. Now to see what we can do?"

  There was a conference between Luke and Ward, and in order to give histeam the most severe kind of a try-out, Luke arranged to let the scrubbat last.

  The first practice game was important in more ways than one. Not onlydid it open the season for Excelsior Hall, but it would show up the weakplayers, and, while the first team was practically picked, there mightbe a change in it. At least so every lad who was not on it, but wantedto be, thought, and he hoped against hope that his playing might attractthe attention of the manager.

  Another thing was that Dr. Rudden, the coach, sometimes took a hand inthe baseball affairs and occasionally he had been known to over-ride thejudgment of Hiram and Luke, insisting that some player whom they had notpicked be allowed to show what he could do on the first team. So therewere many hearts that beat high with hope, and among them was Joe's.And there were hearts that were a bit anxious--to wit, members of thefirst team who were not quite sure of themselves.

  There was a large crowd in the grandstand and on the bleachers when thegong rang to start the game--a throng of students mostly, for thegeneral public was not admitted so early in the season.

  It was a good day for the game, albeit the ground was a trifle soft, andthe Spring wind not as warm as might be. The boys in their spick andspan new uniforms made a natty appearance as they trotted out on thediamond.

  According to custom, Dr. Fillmore, the venerable head of the school,pitched the first ball formally to open the season.
It was a sort ofcomplimentary ball, and was not expected to be struck at.

  "Play ball!" yelled the umpire as he took the new horsehide sphere fromits tinfoil wrapping and handed it to Dr. Fillmore. The president bowedas though about to make a speech, and Joe, who was in the box, steppedback. Our hero's heart was thumping under his blouse, for at last he wasabout to pitch his first game at Excelsior Hall, even if it was but onthe scrub.