CHAPTER XXI
THE FIRST GAME
Notwithstanding Fred's jubilant song, the day was not yet ended.
As the boys approached the school, they saw a figure in the road alittle way ahead that seemed familiar to them. They quickened theirpace, quickly overtaking Dago Joe.
"Hello, Joe," came from many voices at once.
Joe flashed them a smile, showing his fine, white teeth.
"Hello," he answered genially.
"Wonder if he's as fond of hash as ever," Fred remarked in a low voiceto Mouser.
"What are you doing up this way, Joe?" asked Bobby.
"Looking for any one?" inquired Sparrow.
But Joe was wary and refused to be drawn out.
"Can't get that old fox to give himself away," muttered Skeets.
Just then Tom Hicksley approached, accompanied by Bronson and Jinks.They caught sight of Joe at the same time that he saw them, and tried toretreat. Bronson and Jinks succeeded, but Joe was too quick forHicksley, and hurrying forward laid his hand on his arm, while hejabbered away excitedly.
"Ha ha!" exclaimed Fred in a tragic way. "I see it all now."
"He's boning Hicksley for something," guessed Sparrow.
"Money, I'll bet," ventured Shiner.
"I shouldn't wonder if it's on account of that job he did for thosefellows, hauling those ashes," said Bobby.
"Wasn't it luck that we happened along just at this minute?" chuckledMouser delightedly.
As Joe and Hicksley were right in the path that led up to the school,the boys sauntered along carelessly until they were nearly abreast ofthem.
For a man who understood so little English, Joe was talking at a greatrate.
"I wanta ze mon," the boys heard him say.
"I tell you I haven't got it with me just now," Hicksley responded in anundertone, trying to quiet the man and keep the boys from hearing.
"I wanta ze mon now," repeated Joe doggedly.
"Oh, give the man his money, Hicksley," broke in Sparrow suddenly.
"He needs it to buy hash with," said the irrepressible Fred.
"Let's take up a collection to help out," suggested Skeetssarcastically.
"You fellows shut up," cried Hicksley, turning on them fiercely.
"We know how he earned it," returned Bobby undauntedly.
"You don't know anything of the kind," snarled the bully, but his eyeswavered as they met Bobby's fixed upon them.
"It was pretty hard work carting ashes all that way to spoil our coast,"went on Bobby. "You'd better pony up, Hicksley."
"I don't know what you're talking about," growled Hicksley.
But as he did not like the way the boys were gathering around him, heput his hand in his pocket, drew out the dollar and a half that he hadpromised to pay when the work should be finished and which he had eversince been trying to cheat Joe out of, and slunk away, glad to escapethe contempt that he felt in the eyes and manner of the boys.
"Caught with the goods!" cried Fred jubilantly, throwing his cap intothe air.
"Couldn't have been nicer if we'd planned it ourselves," exultedSparrow.
"Well, now that we're sure that he did it, what are we going to do aboutit?" asked Skeets.
"Oh, I guess there's nothing to be done," said Bobby slowly. "If itwasn't that he's likely to be on the baseball team we might make it hotfor him. Not with the teachers of course, but among ourselves. But wewant Rockledge to win the championship, and it won't help any to havetrouble with any boy on the nine. Besides, he's had a good deal ofpunishment just in the last few minutes. I never saw a fellow look ascheap as he did when he faded away just now."
"I guess you're right, Bobby," assented Sparrow. "But all the same hewouldn't let up on you if he had you in a fix."
The next day they all felt rather logy after their feast of the daybefore, and Pee Wee, who had a severe stomach ache, did not get up atall. Fortunately it was Sunday, and the day of rest helped to get themin shape again before their school duties began on Monday morning.
From that time on the weather was all that the boys could ask, and everyhour the ball players could spare was spent in practice on the diamond.
Gradually, under the coaching of Mr. Carrier, their athletic instructor,ably assisted by Frank Durrock, the nine was getting into good form.
Fred, at short stop, was thought to be a shade better than Willis, andhe was slated to play in the first game.
As to the pitchers, while there was no doubt that they would be Bobbyand Hicksley, it was by no means certain which of them would twirl inthe opening game, which was to be with the Somerset nine on theRockledge grounds.
Each was doing well, and each had some points that the other did notpossess. Hicksley, the older of the two, had more muscular strength, andcould whip the ball over with more speed than Bobby. But Bobby was abetter general, a quicker thinker, and he had a control of his curvesthat was far better than his rival's.
"One thing is certain," said Mr. Carrier, in one of his conferences withFrank. "We're better fixed in the box than we ever were before. It'shard to choose between them, though, take all things together, I thinkBlake is the better pitcher of the two."
"Yes," agreed Frank. "I feel a little safer myself with Bobby in therethan I do with Hicksley. Hicksley has lots of speed but he's liable togo up with a bang. But I've never yet seen Bobby get rattled."
The long expected day arrived at last, and all Rockledge turned out tosee the game. The stand was full, and Dr. Raymond himself, with most ofthe teachers, sat in a little space that had been railed off anddecorated with the Rockledge colors.
The Somerset nine, made up of strong, sturdy looking boys, had come overwith a large number of rooters from their town. They were full ofconfidence, and they went through their preliminary practice with a snapand a vim that showed they were good players.
Frank had watched them as they batted out flies, and noted that severalof them were left-handed batters. He held an anxious conference with Mr.Carrier, and then came over to Bobby who was warming up.
"I had expected to have you pitch to-day, Bobby," he said; "but I'vejust been noticing that those fellows have two or three left-handedbatters. Now you know as well as I do that for that kind it's best tohave left-handed pitching. They can't hit it so easily."
"Sure," replied Bobby.
"And so I think I'll have to put in Hicksley," continued Frank.
"That's all right," said Bobby heartily, "and I'll be rooting my headoff for him to win."
"You're a brick, Bobby!" exclaimed Frank. "I was sure you'd understand."
When the umpire cried: "Play ball!" there was a buzz of surprise amongthe spectators, when, instead of Bobby, it was Tom Hicksley who pickedup the ball and faced the batter.
Bobby Blake on the School Nine; Or, The Champions of the Monatook Lake League Page 21