the Shortstop (1992) (11 page)

Time lagged then. The porter lit the lights, for it was growing dark; four of the boys went into the smoker to play cards, and the others quieted down. After a while the passengers returned from the diner, and with them the porter, who began making up the berths. Chase watched him with interest.

"Let's turn in," said Enoch. "It's a long ride and we'll be tired enough. Some of us must double up, an' I 'm glad we 're skinny." Enoch boosted Chase into the upper berth and swung himself up.

" Take off your outer clothes," said Enoch, " an' be comfortable."

Chase found it very snug up there, and he lay back listening to the smooth rush of the train as it sped on into the night. And before long he fell asleep. When he awakened the car was dark, though a faint gray light came through the window above him. He heard somebody walking softly down the aisle and wondered who it could be. The steps stopped.

Chase heard a sound at his feet, and rose to see an arm withdrawn between the curtains. He promptly punched Enoch in the side. Enoch groaned and rolled over.

" Some of the boys stealing our shoes," whispered Chase.

" It's the porter wantin' 'em to shine," said Enoch sleepily. Then he raised his head and listened. " Yep, it's the porter. I'm glad you woke me. Now, listen an' you'll hear somethin' funny. Cas always smuggles his bull-pup into the car, an' hides him from the porter, an' then puts him to sleep at the foot of the berth. Thet porter will be after Cas's shoes pretty soon."

At intervals of every few moments the porter's soft slipshod footsteps could be plainly heard. He was making toward the upper end of the car.

" It's comin' to him, " whispered Enoch, tensely.

A loud, savage, gurgling growl burst out in the stillness, and then yells of terror. A terrific uproar followed. Bumpings and bangings of a heavy bod
y
in the aisle; sharp whacks and blows; steady, persistent growling; screams of fright from the awakened women; wild peals of delight from the ball players; above all, the yelling of the porter, these sounds united to make a din that would have put a good-sized menagerie to the blush.

It ended with the unlucky negro making his escape, and Cas coaxing his determined protector back into the berth. By and by silence once more reigned in the Pullman.

Chase, having had his sleep, lay there as long as he could, and seeing it was broad daylight, decided he would crawl over Enoch and get out of the berth. By dint of some extraordinary exertions he got into his clothes and shoes. Climbing over Enoch was no difficult matter, though he did not accomplish it without awakening him. Then Chase parted the curtains, put his feet out, turned and grasped the curtain-pole, and balanced himself momentarily, preparatory to leaping down. The position was awkward for him, and as he loosened hi
s
knee-hold he slipped and fell. One of his feet went down hard into a very large, soft substance that suddenly heaved like a swelling wave. As Chase rolled into the aisle screams rent the air.

" Help ! Help ! Thieves ! Murder ! Murder ! Murder ! "

He had fallen on the fat woman in the lower berth. Chase saw a string of heads bobbing out of the curtains above and below, and he heard a mighty clamour that made the former one shrink by comparison.

The conductor, brakeman, and porter rushed in. Chase tried to explain, but what with the wails of the outraged lady and the howls of the players it was impossible to make himself heard. He went away and hid in the smoking-car till the train stopped near Stubenville, where they were to change for Wheeling. When the Findlay team had all stepped off the Pullman, leaving the porter enriched and smiling his surprise, it was plain to Chase that he had risen in the regard of his fellow-players.

" Say, Chase., you're coming on! "

" You'll do, old man! " : 'It was the best ever! "

"The fire-escape, my lad, is not in a lady's berth! "

" Go wan! What you giving us? You kicked her in the stomach jest b
y
accident? Go wan!"

Chase found it impossible to make the boys believe that he had falle
n
from the upper berth and had stepped on the poor lady unintentionally.

The run along the Ohio to Wheeling was a beautiful one, which Chas
e
thoroughly enjoyed. It was his first sight of a majestic river. During th
e
ride Mac sat beside him and descanted on baseball in general an
d
base-running in particular.

" Chase, a lad as fast as you ought to make all these catchers craw
l
under the bench. Now, listen to me. To get away quick is the secret. It '
s
all in the start. Of course, depend some on coachin', but use your head.

Don't take too big a lead off the base. Fool the pitcher an' catcher. Mak
e
'em think you ain't goin' down. Watch the pitcher an'.
l
earn his motion. Then get your start jest as he begins to move. Befor
e
he moves is the time, but it takes practice. Run like a deer, watch th
e
baseman, an' hit the dirt feet first an' twist out of his way. But pick ou
t
the right time. Of course when you get the hit-an'-run sign you 've got t
o
go. Don't take chances in a close game. I say, don't as a rule. Sometime
s
a darin' steal wins a game. But there's time to take chances an' time
s
not to. Got thet?"

" Mac, where's the bat-sack? " asked one of the players, when the
y
arrived at Wheeling.

"Shure, I forgot it," said Mac, blankly. "I 'll have to buy some bats."

"You ought to be in a bush-league," said one.

" How do you expect us to hit without our bats?" asked another.

" Did you forget my sticks? " cried Thatcher, champion-hitter, utterly los
t
without his favorite bats.

Player after player loomed up over the little manager and threatene
d
him in a way that would have convince
d
outsiders he had actually stolen the bats. Mac threw up his hands, and in wordless disgust climbed into the waiting bus.

To Chase, riding to the hotel, having dinner, dressing for the game, and then a long bus-ride out to the island grounds were details of further enjoyment. Findlay was a great drawing-card and the stands were crowded. Chase was surprised to hear players spoken of familiarly, as if they were members of the home team. "That's Castorious, the great pitcher." "There's old man Hicks, but say! he can catch some." "See, that's good old Enoch, the coacher." "Where's the new short-stop? The papers say he's a wonder." Chase moved out of hearing then and began picking over the new bats Mac had bought. Enoch came up and looked them over, too.

"Bum lot of sticks," he commented. " Say, Chase, Wheeling is a swell town to play in. The fans here like a good game an' don't care who wins. The kids are bad, though. Look out for them. This 's a good ground to hit on.

You ought to lambaste a couple today. If Finnegan pitches, you wait for his slow ball and hit it over the fence."

Findlay won the game 6 to 1. Castorious was invincible. Dude Thatcher hit one over the right-field fence, and Chase hit one over the left-field fence. The crowd cheered lustily after each of these long drives.

When the players piled into the bus to ride back to the hotel Chase saw them bundling up their heads in sweaters, and soon divined the cause. His enlightenment came in the shape of a swiftly flying pebble that struck his head and made him see stars. As the bus rolled out of the grounds Chase saw a long lane lined with small boys.

"Whip up your horses, you yayhoo ! " yelled Cas.

" We 're off ! " shouted another.

" Duck yer nuts! Low bridge! Down with yer noodles! "

Then a shower of stones, mud, apples, and tin cans flew from all sides at the bus. The players fell on the floor and piled upon one another, in every way tryin
g
to hide their faces. Chase fell with them and squeezed down as well as he could to avoid the missiles. It was a veritable running of the gantlet, and lasted till the plunging bus had passed the lines and distanced the pursuers. Then came the strenuous efforts imperative to untangle a dozen or more youths of supple bodies. Only the fortunate players who had been quick enough to throw themselves to the floor first, had escaped bruises or splotched uniforms, and they were hardly better off because of the smashing they had received.

"Gee! I got a lump on my head, all right," said Chase.

" Thet was sweet as ridin' to slow music. Wait, wait till we strike Kenton."

That evening after supper, while Chase was sitting in front of the hotel, Cas whispered to him to look out for tricks. He spent the evening in and around the lobby and kept his eyes open. Nothing happened, and at ten o'clock he went upstairs to find his room. He unlocked the door and opened it, to be deluged b
y
a flood of water from overhead. Next a bucket fell on him and almost knocked him down. Shivering and thoroughly drenched, he fumbled on the bureau, finally found matches and struck a light. A bucket, two sticks, and a string lay on the floor in a great pool of water.

" One of the t-tricks," muttered Chase, with chattering teeth.

He locked his door, closed and fastened his transom, plugged the keyhole and then felt reasonably safe. For a long time there were mysterious goings on in that part of the hotel. Soft steps and subdued voices, snickerings, with occasionally a loud, angry noise, attested to the activity of those who were playing the tricks.

Chase finally got to sleep and had a good night's rest. In the morning as he came out from breakfast he found most of his team assembled as usual in the lobby.

" Hev a good night, Chase? " asked several.

" Fine. Little wet, though, early in the evening," replied Chase, joining in the general laugh.

" Watch for Brill. Don't miss it," said somebody.

Brill was one of the pitchers, a good player, quiet in his demeanor, and rather an unknown quantity. He was a slow, easy-going Virginian. Presently he appeared on the stairs, came down, and with pale face and deliberate steps he approached the players.

" Mawnin', boys," he said, in his Southern drawl. " I shore hev somethin' to say to yo' all. I don't mind about the ice-water, an' I don't mind about the piller somebody hit me with, but I tell yo' all right hyar, the fellar !who - put -thet - there - leap-frog - in - mah - - bed - is - goin'- to - git !licked ! "

But Brill never found out who put the leap-frog in his bed. Wild horses could not have dragged the secret from his comrades.

That evening, when the players were sitting in front of the hotel with their chairs tipped back, a slight, shabbily dressed woman with a dark shawl over her head approached and timidly asked for Mr. Castorious.

" Here I am, ma'am. What can I do for you?" replied the pitcher, rising.

"My husband sent me, sir. Jim Ayers he is, sir, an' used to work in Findlay, where he knew you," she said in a low voice. "He wants to know if you'll help him - lend him a little money. We're bad in need, sir,- an' I've a baby. Jim, he's been out of work an' only got a job last week, an' the second day he was run over by a team - "

" I read it in the paper," interrupted Cas. "Yes, I remember Jim."

"He said you'd remember him," she went on eagerly. " Jim, he had friends in Ohio. He oughtn't never to have left there. He hasn't done well here - but Jim 's the best fellow - he 's been good to me -an' never drinks except when he's down on his luck."

Cas gently turned her toward the light. She was only a girl, pale, worn, sad. " Sure, I remember Jim," said Cas, hurriedly. "Fine fellow, Jim was, when he left off drinking. I'll lend Jim some money, Mrs. Ayers, if you'll promise to spend it on yourself and baby."

The young woman hesitated, then with a wan, grateful smile murmured
,
" Thank you, sir, I will."

"Now, you just go around the corner and wait." Castorious led her a fe
w
steps toward the corner.

When she had gotten out of sight he took a roll of bills from his pocket
,
and detaching one, put it in his hat. " Dig up," he said, thrusting the ha
t
under Mac's snub nose.

" Cas, you're easy. You remember Ayers, don't you?" replied Mac.

" I do. He was strictly N
. G
., a booze fighter, an all-around scamp. I
w
ouldn't give him the price of a drink. But that girl, his wife - did yo
u
see her face? "

" I did," growled Mac, with his hand moving slowly toward his pocket.

" Dig up, then."

Mac dug, and generously. The tall pitcher loomed over Thatcher. "Ca
n
you spare the price of a few neckties to aid a poor woman? " he asked
,
sarcastically.