Frank Armstrong at College

by Matthew M. Colton

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE SOUTHERN TRIP.

  "Congratulations to our noble little pitcher," cried the Codfish. "Isee you are drafted for honors on the Southern trip."

  It was mid-March and the baseball work in the cage was over. The'Varsity nine had been at work on the open field for nearly a week,and Frank Armstrong as well as Jimmy Turner were members of thesquad. Frank had shown possibilities as a pitcher, while Turnerwas considered a substitute catcher in second or third place. Theoccasion for Gleason's congratulations was the announcement in the_News_ that not only Turner but Armstrong as well was among thoseselected to make the trip always taken to the South by the 'Varsitynine for practice at the time of the Easter vacation.

  Frank Quinton, a new graduate coach, who had taken charge of thebaseball situation, had been attracted by Armstrong's earnestnessand his peculiar ability to put the ball over the plate, and hadundertaken with some success to teach him the art of curving the balland at the same time retaining his control. Under the new coach'sguidance the pitcher had done particularly well, and it was nosurprise to anyone that he was included among the twenty players whowere slated to make the trip. His chief competitors were Gilbert, aJunior, and Martin, a Senior, both more experienced in the box, butneither of first class quality. Appleton, the pitcher of the 'Varsitythe year before, had graduated, and on these three named the hopes ofthe Yale team centered.

  "And is our old friend, the trouble maker, coming along with us?"inquired Turner.

  "Bettcher life," returned the Codfish. "Things might run too smoothlyif I stayed at home."

  "You certainly can be depended upon to add a little dash of pepperwherever you are," said Frank laughing.

  "You have no cause to complain, old fel," retorted Gleason. "If Ihadn't got you two thousand feet in the air last summer you couldnever have won your broad-jump, nor have had the chance to have yourpicture printed in the papers with the story of your sweet younglife."

  "Perhaps all that excitement did help," said Frank, "but in thefuture we will take no more chances in an airship."

  "I'll promise you that much anyway," returned the Codfish, "but justthe same I think a good deal of credit is due to your humble servantfor that victory last July. Of course, I don't expect any credit forit from the unthinking public or my selfish roommates, but I have myown congratulations anyway."

  "And that's a lot," laughed Frank. "Do you go down with the team?"

  "Yes, all arranged, tickets, Pullman, boat, everything. I'm one ofthat noble band of 'heelers' who brave everything to be a supporterand lend a yell in the hostile country when most needed."

  "Bully for you, Codfish," cried Turner. "We may need you, but leaveyour automobile at home."

  The itinerary of the southern trip included Washington, where thetour opened with a game with Georgetown; Charlottesville, Va.;Richmond and Norfolk. At the latter place three games were to beplayed, then was to follow a boat trip up the Chesapeake Bay toWashington, where a second game was to be played with Georgetown.

  Everyone was looking forward to the delights of warm sun and springbreezes in the land of flowers, for the March winds on Yale fieldhad been anything but conducive to good ball playing. But spring wasreluctant even in the south, and warm days were few and far between.Yale lost the first game with Georgetown with Martin in the box, andfared no better with the University of Virginia nine when Gilbert,who was supposed to be the most effective of the Yale staff ofpitchers, went down before the fusillade of hits.

  "You will start the game with the Norfolk League team to-morrow,"said Coach Quinton to Armstrong as the players were leaving thedinner table at the hotel in Norfolk. "This will be one of the bestgames of the trip and I want to win it."

  "All right, sir," returned Frank. "I'll do my best."

  Frank won his game, but at heavy expense. For five innings he pitchedgreat ball and kept the league hitters to two runs, while the Yaleteam, finding themselves, batted out seven runs by clean hitting andfast base-running. Then in the sixth Frank began to slow up and theNorfolk batters reached his delivery frequently, but runs were cutoff by superb playing of the Yale infield. Every ball he pitched senta sting through his muscles with a pain almost unbearable, but hekept on to the end of the inning.

  "What's the matter with you?" inquired the coach as he came to thebench. "Is your arm bothering you?"

  "Yes, something seems to be wrong with it. Hurts like thunder."

  Quinton knew only too well the symptoms. Armstrong had "thrown hisarm out," a not uncommon thing in early spring baseball. His muscles,not sufficiently worked out, had been injured in the delivery of thespeed ball he had been pitching.

  Martin finished the game and held it safely, but Frank pitched nomore that trip nor during the season for the 'Varsity. For a timeafter returning to New Haven he was worked in the outfield, but eventhere was at a disadvantage because he could not shoot the ball on along throw from the outfield. So he was displaced by a weaker hitter,and shortly after went over to the track squad where he was receivedwith open arms by the trainer, who foresaw a certainty of addedpoints in the coming track meets.

  And he was not disappointed, for Frank, now out of baseball becauseof his accident, gave his entire time to the perfection of the broadjump, and won first place at the Harvard and Princeton dual meets.He took second place to the great Moffatt who made the trip acrossthe continent from the University of California, and set a mark attwenty-three feet nine inches, which even Frank's unusual skillfailed to equal, although on three different trials he had improvedon his jump at the Queen's Club in London. Armstrong was now ratedas one of the best jumpers in any of the colleges. But his ambitionsin the direction of baseball and football had failed to materializethrough accidents of one sort or another. He was the kind of a boy,however, who was willing to do as well as it was possible the thingthat was available without repining about the things impossible.

  During the stay at Norfolk the Codfish sustained his reputationas a friend of trouble. On the way down from Washington he hadscraped acquaintance with a classmate named Chalmers, who had someacquaintances in Norfolk. The party was hardly established at thehotel when Gleason hunted up his friend Chalmers and suggested thatthey take a ride in one of the snappy looking motor cars that stoodin front of the hotel for hire. Chalmers pleaded poverty.

  "Only four dollars an hour," said Gleason, "and we can look all overthe town. Bully old place, all wistaria and pretty girls and happydarkies. Come on, don't be a tight wad!"

  "Four dollars an hour would break me. At that price I could rideabout ten minutes. Let's walk," suggested Chalmers.

  "Oh, come on, let's show these southerners some speed. I have fifteendollars in my inside pocket. There's a perfectly ripping blue car outfront with a darky all fussed up to beat the band. It looks like aprivate rig and all that. One hour will do the trick, and I'll footthe bill."

  That argument moved Chalmers, whose finances were low. Together theboys located the blue motor car with its snappy driver, immediatelyafter lunch, and tumbled into the tonneau.

  "Where do you-all want to go?" inquired the driver.

  "Oh, just show us around," said the Codfish, with a wave of thehand. "Show us all the flossy streets and the monuments, but I warnyou now I don't climb any of them. Fire away."

  Thus admonished, the driver headed his machine in the direction ofGhent, threading the streets of the quaint old town while the boyslay back luxuriously on the cushions of the tonneau.

  "Gee whiz," said Chalmers, as the blue car rolled down Boissevainavenue, "there's Miss Smith or I'm an Injun."

  "Where, who and what?" inquired the Codfish, immediately alert.

  "Just coming down the steps of that white house over there."

  "Know her?"

  "Sure. Kid sister's roommate at school or something like that. Beenat our house once. Promised Sis I'd look her up, but didn't expect tohave time."

  "Gee, but she's a pippin," said the Codfish, enthusiastically. "Let'sask her to
take a ride in our pretty blue car!"

  "And thereby kill two birds with one stone."

  "Which two?"

  "Keep my promise to Sis and do a humane act. She lives miles fromhere I know. Probably been calling."

  "Poor thing, we ought out of common courtesy ask her to ride home. Ihate to see so pretty a girl walking with nothing better than a dogfor company. Go ahead, be a gent; have a heart!"

  By this time the car had traveled a block or so beyond where they hadpassed Miss Smith, whose steps were bent in the opposite direction tothat in which the boys were headed. Chalmers was finally convinced bythe persuasive Codfish that the automobile should be offered to theyoung lady, and the driver was ordered to turn around. The pedestrianwas soon overtaken, and, hat in hand, Chalmers sprang from the carand intercepted the young lady.

  "Miss Smith, I believe?" he said, advancing with a grin.

  "Oh, Mr. Chalmers, I'm so glad to see you. Your sister wrote me youwere coming down, but I never thought you would remember me."

  "How could I ever forget?" said Chalmers, making his most elaborate,and what he considered fetching, bow. "This is my friend Mr. Gleasonof Yale."

  "So glad to meet Mr. Gleason," chirped the young lady. "And you-allare down with the Yale team? Isn't that too lovely?"

  Neither of the boys could see just how it was "too lovely," but theytook it for what it was worth.

  "Will you permit us to drive you home?" said the Codfish, waving hishand magnificently toward the blue motor car. "Chalmers says you livemiles from here."

  "Oh, that would be too lovely," gurgled Miss Smith. "I just adoremotoring, and it is such a nice day, too. I live only a mile fromhere, but it would be sweet to ride that far in your car."

  Miss Smith was escorted to the blue motor, and established in themiddle of the rear seat while Chalmers and Gleason took seats oneither side of her. The bull terrier, not nearly so much pleasedwith motoring as his mistress, spread himself over the floor andoccasionally made frolicsome dashes at Gleason's Yale blue silksocks, a large expanse of which was showing.

  "Get out, you little beast," cried Gleason, alarmed for the welfareof his beautiful socks. "Chew Chalmers over there, he's much betterchewing than I am."

  "O, don't mind him, Mr. Gleason, he just adores blue. I simply can'tkeep anything blue around the house. Always eats it up."

  "Well, he can't eat any of my blue stuff. He must be a Harvard dog;quit it, Fido," as the dog made another dash.

  A few minutes' drive brought them to Miss Smith's house. "O, I simplydon't want to get out," she said.

  "Then why do you?" queried the Codfish. "It pains us to have youleave. We were just looking around, you know, and would like to havesomeone point out the sights of your gay and festive city."

  "That would be too lovely, and I'll be so glad if you'll take CousinMary."

  "Cousin Mary is on," said the Codfish. "Where does she live?"

  "O, just around the corner. She loves motoring, too, and we poorpeople down here can't have automobiles of our own."

  It was but a minute's trip to Cousin Mary's, and matters werefacilitated by discovering the young lady in question standing inher doorway, hatted and gloved, with a camera in her hand. She wasmore than plump, she was decidedly fat and had red hair. The Codfishdecided he wasn't for Cousin Mary. Introductions were quickly madeand the call explained. Cousin Mary was willing to ride anywhere solong as it was in a motor.

  "Now where shall we go?" inquired the Codfish. "You tell us. Thiswill be a personally conducted tour, you know."

  "O, it would be just too lovely to drive to Virginia Beach," gushedMiss Smith.

  Chalmers, who knew something of the geography of the territory,winced and tried to catch his companion's eye, but that individualfailed to see the warning glance, and ordered--"Drive to VirginiaBeach, James."

  "All right, sah," and the machine shot off for the Beach. Chalmersvery generously took the seat alongside the driver, leaving theCodfish with the girls in the tonneau, which was a disposition highlysatisfactory to the latter. But he took care to put Cousin Mary onthe far side of the seat.

  As mile after mile was spun off, and still the destination was notreached, the Codfish began to wonder what the length of the drivemight be, but his pride forbade him to ask. On and on went the carat an easy pace. They had been out nearly two hours from the hotel,and the Codfish began to make mental calculations. "Two hours, thatmakes eight dollars," he calculated, "another hour and a half back,that makes fourteen. That makes some little bill. I can readily seeI'm busted already!" His conversation began to halt, but the lovelyMiss Smith was concerned only in the beauties of the landscape whichshe pointed out to her companion on the seat, who was not so deeplyinterested as he might have been had things been different.

  At last the car drew up at the Beach. "How far do you call it downhere, James?" inquired the Codfish, nonchalantly. He was stillcalculating.

  "I reckon about twenty-five miles," said the driver. "Kaint make muchtime on these here roads."

  "Yes, I noticed that," returned the Codfish dryly.

  The young ladies were overjoyed to be at the Beach. They walked onthe sands and took photographs.

  "Cousin Mary just loves to take photographs," Miss Smith explained.Then the girls discovered they had a call to make--would Mr.Chalmers and Mr. Gleason mind? A very dear girl friend whom theyhadn't seen for a whole month was at the Beach. Would they come? No,then they would only be gone a few minutes. It was "too lovely" tohave such a chance to call.

  So the boys were left behind to wait impatiently. The minutes passedand then more minutes.

  "And there's that blooming motor sitting there at four dollars anhour," growled the Codfish. "Three hours and fifteen minutes gonealready. I'm bankrupt now and twenty-five miles to go back. I'll beentirely insolvent by the time we turn up in Norfolk."

  Fifty minutes more passed and Miss Smith and Cousin Mary reappearedon the scene only to exhaust another reel of films photographing thecar, the pavilion, a decrepit boat drawn up on the sands, and severalsea views. "Cousin Mary is so artistic," explained Miss Smith. "Youought to see some of her sea views, they are just too sweet."

  "I've enough sea views to last me the rest of my natural life,"muttered the Codfish under his breath. "I'm not much for sea viewsat four dollars an hour."

  When everything necessary and unnecessary that the girls could thinkof had been done, the motor was turned in the direction of Norfolk,and set off at, a leisurely pace much to the disgust of the Codfish.The longer the driver took to cover the distance, the more money hemade. Time was money to him with a vengeance.

  On the outskirts of Norfolk, and just as dusk was beginning tosettle, the rear shoe gave way with a loud explosion.

  "How long?" inquired the Codfish, laconically.

  "I reckon 'bout twenty minutes," replied the driver, at which MissSmith set up a remonstrance. "We must be home. Mother will thinksomething dreadful has happened. The trolley is only a few blocksfrom here. We can't wait that long for him to fix the old tire."

  "All right, then," said the Codfish. "We'll all go, and James, yousee us at the hotel after you get fixed up again." He was glad ofthe opportunity to have the automobile white elephant off his hands,and saw a chance of getting to the hotel and preserving his dignitybefore the girls. He could get the money he needed as soon as he gotback. But his luck was against him in the shape of the darky driverwho was both obstinate and suspicious.

  "Kaint do dat, sah," the driver protested, "last time I do dat, Idone get stung. We done been out five hours and a half, dat makestwenty-two dollars, not countin' little something you gwine to giveJames."

  "O, Mr. Gleason," cried Miss Smith. "I thought it was your own car."There was a note of reproach in her voice, and the speaker tossed herhead. A ride in a hired car didn't seem so luxurious as in a privateone.

  A hasty conference between the two boys resulted in the pooling ofall their cash in hand, which amounted to just $16.25. This amountthe Cod
fish offered the driver, who refused it and loudly argued forhis rights before a gathering crowd. He would not let his passengersout of his sight, so it was finally arranged that Chalmers should seethe young ladies home while he, the Codfish, held as a hostage, hungaround for another half hour while the shoe was replaced. He reachedthe hotel late for dinner, where he borrowed sufficient money to paythe driver.

  Of course, the story got out, and the two participants never heardthe last of it. It was even resurrected in the class day histories atthe end of Senior year.