Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager Part 32

"I hope," said Ben, "that you're going to give us a crack at that dummy speed merchant to-day, Lefty. We want to see if he is a real pitcher."

Coming forth from the home team's dugout, a swarthy small man, who wore knickerbockers and a wrist watch, overheard these words.

"Bo-lieve me, Frazy," said Cap'n Wiley, "you'll never ask for him again with any great avidity after you face him once. I hope you'll excuse me for b.u.t.ting in and making that statement without the polite formality of an introduction to you, but I am so impetuous!

I'm the proud party who sold Jonesy to Lefty. Shortly after that little transaction I was unnecessarily worried lest he should decide to abandon baseball, but he has just informed me that, having succeeded in giving away the last of an infinitesimal fortune of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, he is now excruciatingly happy and ready to follow pitching as a profession."

Frazer looked the odd character over tolerantly. "So you're the party who bunkoed Lefty, are you?" He laughed. "You're very much in evidence before the game begins, but I fancy it'll be difficult to find you with a microscope when it's finished--if Locke has the nerve to pitch your dummy wonder."

"I think I'll start him on the hill, at any rate," said the manager of the Blue Stockings.

Apparently Wiley started to cheer, but checked himself abruptly. "I'll conserve my vocal cords," he t.i.ttered. "I doubt not that my voice will be frazzled to a husky whisper before the contest terminates. Take a tip from me, Mr. Frazer, and send your premier twirler on to the firing line. Smoke Jordan's the only pitcher you have who can make the game interesting with Jones pastiming for the Stockings."

"Jordan has asked to pitch," returned Ben, "but I have half a dozen others who would do just as well."

Locke was pa.s.sing in front of the section occupied by the newspaper men when Stillman called to him. "I don't see your wife here, nor Miss Collier," said the reporter. "I looked for both to be on hand for the opening game on the home grounds."

"Unfortunately neither was able to get here, although they planned to do so," explained Lefty. "You know they have been spending the past eight weeks in Southern California with Virginia's aunt, who invited them to accompany her and would not take no for an answer. They'll be on hand to-morrow, however."

Stillman leaned toward the wire netting and lowered his voice. "Has Collier ever caught on to the fact that the sister with whom he had quarreled furnished the capital to save him from going to smash?" he questioned.

"Not yet. It's still a mystery to him how I was able to come forward at the psychological moment with that loan."

The newspaper man laughed softly. "He came near pa.s.sing away from heart failure that day. He was shocked almost as much as Garrity, but in a different way." His manner changed to one of concern. "You're going to use Jones to-day, aren't you? Think you have any chance to win?"

"Unless I've made a mistake in estimating that man," replied Locke, "it won't be his fault if we lose. But it'll be a test for the whole team as well as Jones."

It was truly a test. A pitcher who was merely a "speed merchant"

could not have lasted three innings against the Wolves, who "ate speed." It was not long, however, before the anxious crowd, and the visiting team as well, began to realize that the mute twirler had something more than speed. Now and then he mixed in a sharp-breaking curve, and his hopper was something to wonder at, something that made the batters mutter and growl as they slashed at it fruitlessly. But, best of all, besides coolness and judgment, he had that prime essential of all pitchers, control. With never-failing and almost monotonous regularity, he seemed to put the sphere precisely where he tried to put it.

In Brick King, Jones had a valuable aid. King knew his old a.s.sociates; if any one of them had a batting weakness, he was aware of it. And not once during the game did Jones question a signal given him by King. What Brick called for he pitched, and put it just where it should be put.

With such rifle accuracy, the work of the man behind the bat seemed easy, save for the fact that occasionally Jones' smokers appeared almost to lift the backstop off his feet. But King held them as if his big mitt had been smeared with paste.

Smoke Jordan was also in fine fettle. It was a pitcher's battle, with the crowd watching and gasping and waiting for "the break." It must not be imagined that the Wolves did not hit the ball at all, but for a long time they could not seem to hit it safely, and for four innings they could not get a runner on. In the first of the fifth, however, a cracking single and two errors permitted them to score an unearned run.

"If I know what I'm talking about," said Ben Frazer, "we had no license to get that tally. Now, Smoke, you've got to hold 'em. If that dummy don't crack, I'll acknowledge that he's a real pitcher."

"I'll hold 'em," promised Jordan.

But he couldn't keep his promise. In the sixth, with one down, King beat out an infield hit, reaching the initial sack safely by an eyelash.

He stole second on the catcher for whom he had been discarded, to the disgust of Frazer. The crowd seemed to forget that Jones was deaf and dumb, for it entreated him to smash one out, and Cap'n Wiley, from his place in a box, howled louder than any ten others combined. Jones drove a long fly into left, but the fielder was there, and King was held at second.

Hyland followed. Jordan, a bit unsteady, bored him in the ribs.

Then Keeper, another Wolf discard, came up and singled to right field.

Covering ground like a hundred yards' sprinter, King registered from second on that hit, tying the score up.

The crowd went wild. The Blue Stockings and Mysterious Jones had the fans with them after that. Constantly that great gathering rooted for another run--just one more. Hyland perished on third when Spider Grant popped weakly.

If possible, the Wolves were fiercer than ever. In the first of the eighth they got Jones into a hole again through another hit and errors which peopled the corners, with not a man down. Then Jones won a roaring ovation from the standing mult.i.tude by striking out three men in succession.

The game was settled in the last of the ninth, and again Jack Keeper figured in the play. He had reached second, with one out, when Grant hit into the diamond. The ball took an amazingly high bound. The shortstop went for it, at the same time seeing Keeper scudding for third, and realizing that it would be impossible to get him at that sack. The moment he got the ball, the shortstop whipped it to first, catching Grant by a foot.

There was a shout of warning. Keeper had not stopped at third. Over the sack at full speed he had flashed, and on toward home. The first baseman lined the sphere to the catcher, who had leaped into position. Keeper hit the dirt, twisting his body away from the catcher, who got the ball and jabbed at him--a fraction of a second too late.

Keeper had accomplished a feat that is the desire of every base runner's heart. He had scored from second on an infield out. And that performance gave the Blue Stockings the game.

While the crowd was still shouting its rejoicing, Cap'n Wiley found Frazer shaking hands with Lefty.

"I demand an apology!" croaked Wiley, barely able to speak.

"I apologize," said Frazer. "Your dummy _can_ pitch! But a team with one real pitcher is scarcely equipped to cut much figure in the race.

Who'll you use to-morrow, Locke?"

"I am thinking of trying out another one of our uncertainties,"

answered the southpaw, with an enigmatical smile.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

THE RETURN OF LEFTY

The work of patching up his team and whipping it into shape had kept Lefty Locke busy pretty nearly every minute of his time while awake, since the beginning of the training season. With that task before him, and knowing how little attention he could spare for Janet, he had raised no objections when she had asked to accompany Mrs. Vanderpool and Virginia on the California trip. While he was not foolish enough to believe that the reconstructed team could become a pennant contender that season, he did have hopes of finis.h.i.+ng in the first division, which, under the circ.u.mstances, would be a triumph indeed.

He had found Janet's letters interesting enough, but his concentration on other matters had prevented him from giving them much thought once they were read through. She had told him of the rumor that Bailey Weegman, having been lucky in escaping prosecution for his part in the conspiracy, had started some sort of mail-order business and was said to be taking in money "hand over fist."

Far more interesting, however, although almost as quickly forgotten, was the gossip about Virginia and Franklin Parlmee. Having returned from his hasty and fruitless voyage across the pond, Parlmee had felt not only injured but outraged by the treatment he had received. It was impossible for Virginia honestly to deny that she had been led to distrust him--and by Weegman! That cut the deepest. She had kept him ignorant of the fact that she had returned home, thus allowing him to go rus.h.i.+ng off to Europe in an attempt to find her. That had been his sole purpose; he had been in no way concerned with Garrity in a scheme to wrest the control of the Blue Stockings from Collier. It was true that, having come into a limited inheritance, he had purchased two or three small lots of the club's stock. His judgment had told him that the price to which it had dropped made it a good investment. Garrity had been anxious to get hold of that stock. He had pursued Parlmee and endeavored to buy the certificates at a price that would have permitted the holder of them to realize a good profit. But what Garrity had wanted so badly Parlmee had considered still more valuable, and he had refused to part with a single share.

A sense of injury on one side and shame and false pride on the other had prevented complete reconciliation between Parlmee and Virginia. But Janet wrote that Miss Collier was not happy, although she made a brave pretense of being so. Once or twice Janet had detected her alone, crying.

Lefty had practically forgotten about these things until, on that second day of battle with the Wolves, only a few minutes before the game was to begin, he looked toward the club owner's box, occupied as he knew by Virginia and Janet, and made the discovery that Franklin Parlmee was likewise there. The southpaw stood still in his tracks, and stared, smiling; for he saw that Parlmee and Virginia were chatting and laughing, while Janet watched them with an expression of complete satisfaction and pleasure.

"Patched it up at last, thank goodness!" muttered Locke. "I think I'll keep away until after this game is over. Plenty of time to congratulate them then."

He had been warming up, as usual, but to-day it was observed that he did so alone with Brick King. Many of those who took note of this were led to speculate. Jack Stillman saw it, and smiled wisely to himself.

A crowd, bigger than that of the previous day, had turned out. The Blue Stockings' unexpected opening victory over the Wolves was the cause.

Perhaps that had been no more than a flash in the pan, but the fans wanted to see for themselves. Deep down in the hearts of most of them was a sprouting hope that it presaged something more.

Practice was over. The home team was spreading out on the field and making ready. Sc.r.a.ppy Betts, first man up for the visitors, was swinging two bats, prepared to drop one of them and advance to the plate. The announcer lifted his megaphone, and, sitting forward on the edges of their seats, the crowd strained their ears to catch the names of the battery men. "Who's going to pitch for US?" was the question they had been asking.

Through the megaphone came the usual hoa.r.s.e bellow. For an instant it seemed to strike the great gathering dumb. Then a wild yell of astonishment and delight went up. Everywhere in the stands and on the bleachers fans turned to their neighbors and shouted:

"Locke! It's Lefty! Good old Lefty! Yow! Ye-ee!"

They rose as one person and roared at him in a mighty chorus when he walked out to the mound. If he believed in himself, if he had the courage to go in there against Frazer's hungry Wolves, they believed in him.