Chapter XXVIII Horace Proves Himself
Midkiff swung at the first pitched ball, and popped a little fly into the hands of the third baseman. That surprised individual muffed it, which enabled Midkiff to reach first. The Blackport fellows laughed. Kirby sneered at the batter’s luck: “He’s carrying a rabbit’s foot. Swings like a garden gate, and shuts his eyes. I’ve seen his sort before.”
Rex felt like punching the fellow, but he wanted to play the game, and so he ignored Kirby, urging Cloudman to hammer Midkiff along.
Cloudman struck out. In the meantime, however, Midkiff stole second very neatly.
Pence was the next one to bat. He cast one of his sneering smiles at his chum, and got into position. Before going out he had whispered a word or two in Kingdon’s ear, and the backstop had nodded.
“Kirby next,” Rex reminded the grouchy one mildly.
Horace swung at the first ball, and missed. The visitors had brought an umpire, and he grinned as he called the strike.
“Oh, Horrors!” groaned Kirby, picking himself up to look for a bat he liked.
A moment later Horace surprised nearly everybody by laying down a pretty bunt, and beating the throw to first. At the same time, having caught a signal from Rex, Midkiff scampered safely to third. This was like real baseball, and the Blackporters did not laugh.
“Now, Mr. Kirby,” said Rex, “you have a lovely opportunity to show us that your middle name is Home Run. Rise to the occasion, and we’ll have a nice little lead.”
Kirby glanced at Midkiff and scowled. Then his gaze sought Horace. He knew very well the black-eyed chap’s style of base-running. Already Horace was bothering the big pitcher for the visiting nine by taking a lead toward second. To “play the game,” it devolved on Kirby to give Pence a chance to steal. Instead of that, however, he swung at the first ball pitched to him, and hit it hard and fair.
“A bird!” yelled Peewee from the coaching line.
“Some crack, but poor baseball,” muttered Rex.
Kirby couldn’t make the plate, but he reached third, and the Storm Island nine was one run to the good.
Now Kirby would have been reprimanded by most coachers for failing to give the runner on first a chance to try a steal, but Kingdon remained silent.
Hicks chattered like a monkey, telling Kirby he was a wonder or else the pitcher was easy.
Either Kirby’s long slam or the joshing of Peewee disturbed the big pitcher from Blackport, for he walked Phillips. Then Comas rapped out a scratch hit, scoring Kirby. Phillips raced onward to third, and made it by sliding.
Kingdon went to bat, and waited while two strikes were called on him. On the second one Comas went to second. Rex had demonstrated to Kirby by example what the batter should do with runners on first and third. Then he smashed the next ball that came over, hitting for three sacks.
Phillips and Comas cantered in, and the Storm Islanders were four tallies in the lead.
The streak ended there, however, for Hicks and the next men fanned.
“Nice little bunt, Pence,” said Rex to Horace as the nines changed positions. “It cut the ice, Midkiff was waiting for it.”
“Oh, I know a little something about real base ball,” returned Pence somewhat loftily.
“But Kirby wants to be the whole team,” laughed Kingdon.
In the next inning, Midkiff held the visitors down to two hits, neither of which counted. Neither side had scored again when the fifth inning came round.
At that point, however, Kingdon saw that Midkiff was beginning to show weariness. This was true also of the Blackport pitcher, and the captains of both teams decided to make a change. Yansey himself went in for his club.
Yansey put more on the ball from the start than the deposed pitcher had possessed, beginning by striking out the home team in one, two, three order.
“Pence,” Kingdon found time to say while the slaughter was proceeding, “do you think you can hold your own out there on the mound for five innings?”
“Give me a chance to try,” requested the black-eyed chap.
“Will you work with me, and follow my signals?”
“If I cross you on signals, you can drop me.”
“Good! No flashy stuff. Use all your speed only when you have to. A change of pace bothers most batters. I can send Applejack in, but——”
“Try me!” begged Horace, his eyes flashing.
“Be it so,” Kingdon agreed with mock solemnity. “This day, then, shalt thou be tried.”
He sent Horace off to one side to warm up with Kirby. The latter brightened at once.
“Is that yellow-haired chap going to put you where you belong?” Harry cried. “Well, there’s hopes for him yet!”
“But how about me?” drawled Horace.
“Why, Horrors! You know you’ve got these would-be pitchers distanced. Just show ’em that fast one of yours, and those Blackport fellows will shut their eyes.”
“Haven’t a bit of confidence in me, old man, have you?” chuckled Pence. “But I’m under Kingdon’s orders. Don’t expect too much.”
“Oh, bother him!” ejaculated Kirby. “Once you’re in the box, you can do as you please.”
But Horace had given his word to Rex, and he meant to keep it. For the first time in his life, he was willing to follow the lead of another man. A change was coming over him.
By this time Yansey had fanned the third man, and the Storm Island boys took the field. Horace got into position, and threw a few balls to Rex to get the range. Then he nodded that he was ready.
The big fellow who had first pitched for the visitors was up. He swung a stick almost as long as a wagon-tongue, and Kingdon signaled to keep the ball close. Pence used a shoot, and the big batsman caught the ball near his knuckles. The ball popped almost directly up into the air, but was a fair hit. Rex was under it when it returned toward mother earth, and the first man to face Horace had been far too easy.
“Wasn’t that a shame!” chuckled the backstop, tossing the ball to Pence.
Such luck wasn’t to continue. Though Horace started by putting a strike over for the next man, he followed with three balls, seeming unable to locate the plate.
The batsman grinned. “Oh, you squawpaw!” he called at Horace. “Just gimme one—only one, so I can lean up against it!”
Rex knew that Horace longed to send in one of his fast ones. He rubbed his palm in the dirt. A smoker came over. “Strike two!” barked the umpire, dodging involuntarily.
Kirby was delighted. Only for a moment, however. Horace followed with another swift one that made Kingdon stretch himself in order to stop it with one hand. The batter was sent to first.
“There it goes!” ejaculated Kirby wildly. “I knew how it would be. If Kingdon would give old Horrors his head, he’d win the game for us; but he puts him in a hole before turning him loose, and then it’s too late.”
But Pence was not blaming Kingdon. Seeming to read his mind, Rex had given him a chance to show what he could do with speed. The backstop was willing to be convinced that Horace’s fast one was effective, if the pitcher could convince him. He had even admitted that it would be very effective when the time came that Pence could control it finely. Until that time, however, it could be used with safety only to dazzle batter and keep him in a state of uncertainty.
Having reached this conclusion, Horace gave close attention to Rex’s signals for the remainder of the inning, and the visitors failed to score.
“That southpaw looks like a pitcher, Kingdon,” said Yansey generously, as they changed positions. “But I thought for a moment he was going up in the air.”
“My dear fellow,” returned Rex, loudly enough for Pence to hear, “he couldn’t be lifted off his feet with a derrick.”
Horace grew better with each inning. The Storm Island nine could make only one run off Yansey, and the visitors crept up until the score was 5 to 4 in favor of Storm Island when the latter came to bat in the ninth. Yansey held them down to a goose-egg.
“Now go in and do likewise, Horrors,” Kingdon urged. “Your control has improved steadily, and I’m going to let you try speed again. Want to?”
“I’d like to,” answered Pence. “But if I get wild——”
“I’ll stop you, leave it to me.”
In spite of speed, the first batter hit the ball, but he merely popped a fly into Pudge MacComber’s hands, and the fat youth held it. Up came Yansey, with a quizzical smile. He, at least, had been hitting Pence, and he still hoped to tie the score, at least.
The first ball that came his way made the skipper of the Nothing To It gasp. He stepped back, gripped his club tighter and—the umpire declared the second strike!
“Say!” called Yansey. “You want to look out or you’ll tear your whole arm loose at the shoulder and pitch it right along with the ball.”
Fully prepared, he was ready to swing at the next one, but he swung too late, nevertheless. “The pill was in my mitt before you started your bat, old man,” laughed Rex.
“You’ve been letting him hold that speed back to dazzle us with at the finish,” complained Yansey.
When the third batsman struck out likewise, the Storm Islanders shouted for Horace Pence. He had indeed demonstrated that he was a real pitcher, they claimed. Kingdon smiled to himself. He was quite as well satisfied as anybody.