CHAPTER V
AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD
"Oh," said Joe, vaguely, "all right." He wondered, rather uncomfortably,what was coming.
"It's just this," Jack continued. "I tried to get a word with you inthe cage, but there was always some one around. I wanted to know if--ifafter what happened the other day at the river, you have any objectionto my trying for the nine. You see," he went on, hurriedly, "I knowwhat the fellows call me, and I thought maybe you'd rather I didn'tcome out. You just tell me, you know, and it'll be all right. I won'tshow up again."
"I see," said Joe. "No, I haven't the least objection; in fact, I'mglad to have you. I don't pretend to judge that--affair at the river,Weatherby; it's none of my business. And the fact is, I want every manthat can play baseball to report for practise. That's plain, isn't it?"
"Yes. I'll keep on then for the present."
"Of course, Weatherby, I can't guarantee that you'll be made welcomeby the other candidates; you can understand that. They may actunpleasantly, or say ugly things. I'm not able to restrain them. You'llhave to risk that, you know."
"I understand," answered Jack calmly. "They've already called me acoward. I don't believe they can say anything worse."
"No, I guess not." Joe looked curiously at the other. Then, "I say,Weatherby," he exclaimed, impulsively, "what was the trouble, anyway,the other day? I've only heard one side of it, and I fancy there'sanother, eh?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, if you please," answered Jack coldly.
"Oh, all right! I beg pardon." Joe felt somewhat huffed. His sympathyfor the other was for the moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward thedoor.
"By the way," said Joe, in business-like tones, "I think you told meyou'd played ball some. Where was it?"
"At home, on the high-school team. I played three years."
"What position?"
"I pitched the last year. Before that I played in the outfield,generally at right."
"I see." Joe's hopes of the other's usefulness dwindled. He had seena good many cases of ambitious freshmen whose belief in themselvesas pitchers was not justified by subsequent events. Every year therereported for practise a dozen or so of hopeful youngsters, who firmlybelieved themselves capable of filling all such important positionsas pitcher and catcher, merely on the strength of having played suchpositions with more or less success on some fourth- or fifth-rate team.Joe mentally assigned Jack to this class of deluded ones.
"Well," he said, "of course you may count on having a fair trying-out,but I wouldn't hope for too much. You see, a fellow has to be somethingof an expert to get in the box here; it's different from playing ona high-school team. Besides, we're rather well fixed for pitchers:there's Gilberth and King and Knox, all of whom are first-class men.Of course, we want new material wherever we can find it, and if youprove that you can pitch good ball we'll give you all the chanceyou want. But if I were you I'd try for something else this spring,for some position in the field. We're long on pitchers and short onout-fielders. Of course, you could keep your hand in at twirling;there'd be plenty of opportunity for that at practise."
"I'll take whatever I can get," answered Jack. "I don't lay any claimto being a wonder at pitching. I was the best we had in Auburn, but, ofcourse, that doesn't mean very much."
"Auburn, Maine? Do you live there?"
"Two miles outside of town."
"Is that so? Maybe you know a cousin of mine there, Billy Cromwell? Hisfather has a big tannery. He graduated from here three years ago thiscoming spring."
"I know him quite well," replied Jack, smiling for the first time sincehe had entered the study. "It was Billy who persuaded me to come here.He used to tell me about Erskine a good deal. Of course, he's seven oreight years older than I am, but he was always very nice to me."
"Think of that!" said Joe. "The idea of you being a friend of Billy's!He's fine chap, is Billy. What's he doing now?"
"Why, he's assistant superintendent. Every one likes him very much, andhe's awfully smart, I guess. Well, I'll report again to-morrow. I'mglad I saw you, and--thank you."
"Of course you'll report. And if I can help you at any time, just letme know." He opened the door and Jack passed out. "See you to-morrow,Weatherby."
"Yes. Good afternoon."
When Jack reached the head of the stairs he heard Joe's voice again andpaused.
"I say, Weatherby," the baseball captain was calling, "come around andsee me sometimes. I want to hear more about Billy."
"Thank you," was the non-committal reply.
Joe closed the door, took up a Greek book, and went back to thewindow-seat. When he had found his place he looked at it frowningly amoment. "'Thank you,' says he," he muttered. "As much as to say, 'I'mhanged if I do!' That youngster is a puzzle; worse than this chump,Pausanias!"
The warm spell of Thursday and Friday had been succeeded by a dropin temperature that had converted the pools into sheets of ice. Theboard-walks and the paths still made treacherous going, and when, afterleaving Sessons Hall, in which Joe Perkins roomed, Jack had severaltimes narrowly avoided breaking his neck, he left the paths and struckoff across the glistening snow toward the lower end of the yard. It wasalmost dusk, and a cold, nipping wind from the north made him turn upthe collar of his jacket and walk briskly. There were but few fellowsin sight, and he was glad of it. To be sure, by this time he shouldhave been inured to the silently expressed contempt which he met onevery side, to the barely audible whispers that greeted his appearanceat class, to the meaning smiles which he often intercepted as theypassed from one neighbor to another. Yet despite that he was schoolinghimself to bear all these things calmly, and with no outward sign ofthe sting they inflicted, he was not yet quite master of himself, andwas grateful that the coming darkness and the well-nigh empty yardpromised him present surcease from his trials.
Until he had entered Joe Perkins's study a quarter of an hour beforehe had met with no voicing of the public contempt. He had managed toaccept Tracy Gilberth's veiled insult with unmoved countenance, yet ithad required the greatest effort of any. He didn't know who that manwas; he only knew, from observation in the practise-cage, that he wasthe foremost candidate for the position of pitcher, and so must be, inview of Perkins's remark, either Gilberth or King or Knox. Whoever hewas, Jack vowed, some day he would be made to regret his words. Foralthough Jack was accepting his fate in silence, he was very human, andmeant, sooner or later, to even all scores.
When he had almost reached College Place and had taken to theboard-walk again, footsteps crunching the frosty planks ahead of himbrought his mind suddenly away from thoughts of revenge. He looked upand saw that the man who approached and in another moment would passhim was Professor White. Jack stepped off the boards and went on withaverted eyes. The professor recognized him at that instant, and as theycame abreast spoke.
"Good evening, Weatherby."
There was no answer, nor did Jack turn his head. The professor frownedand stopped.
"Weatherby!" he called sharply. Jack paused and faced him.
"Well, sir?" he asked, quietly.
"What does this mean? Are you trying to add boorishness to--to yourother failings?"
"No, sir, I was only trying to spare you the unpleasantness of speakingto a coward."
"Very thoughtful of you," said the other, sarcastically. "But allowme to tell you, sir, that if you want to remove the--ah--the sorryimpression you have made you will have to adopt a less high-and-mightymanner."
"It's a matter of indifference to me what impression you hold, sir,"replied Jack simply. "Good night."
The professor stood motionless and looked after the boy until he hadcrossed the street, the anger in his face slowly fading before agrudging admiration of the other's clever, if extremely impolite,retort. Presently he swung his green bag of books under his arm againand trudged on.
"I wonder if I wasn't too hasty the other day," he muttered. "For acoward he's got a surprising amount of grit, apparently. He'll bearwatching."
Jack sped homeward, feeling rather pleased with himself. His scorewith the professor wasn't by any means even, but the encounter had putsomething to his credit, and as he remembered the professor's look ofamazement and anger he chuckled.
There was a light in Tidball's room as he crossed the corner of theCommon, and as he looked a grotesque head showed in gigantic silhouetteagainst the yellow curtain. Jack ran up the stairs and knocked at hisneighbor's door.
"Come in!" drawled the occupant of the western chamber, and Jackentered on a scene that caused him to pause just inside the door andstare in silent surprise.
Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball Page 5