Jimmy Kirkland and the Plot for a Pennant Part 12

"Bill Clancy," she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed indignantly. "Do you think you can fool anyone with that talk? Do you think I could live with you eighteen years, come next Martinmas, and not know when you're in trouble? Tell your old lady what it is."

"Sure, mother," he said fondly, coming to put his arm around her waist.

"Haven't you enough troubles of your own?"

"Me have troubles?" She was indignant. "Nothing troubles me but worrying over those pesky boys of yours. What's wrong now, Willie?"

"One of the boys out skylarking last night--and drinking."

"Saints forgive him," she said piously, but with a note of relief.

"Sure you'll not be fining the poor boy? Perhaps he needed a drink or two to keep up his courage."

"Nothing like that, mother," he replied seriously. "This was one of the young fellows out with some gamblers drinking wine till past midnight. It looks serious."

"Now, Bill Clancy, you just send for that boy to come right up here and talk it over. Tell him he must behave and explain what it means to all the boys. Then you'll shame him and he'll be a good boy. They're all good boys," she protested earnestly, "only they do try a poor woman."

"I guess that's the best plan, mother," he said. "You trot over into the other room and I'll have him up."

"Which one is it this time, Willie?"

"McCarthy!"

"McCarthy--why, Willie, he wouldn't--there's some mistake. That poor boy wouldn't do such a thing. And him grieving his heart out because Betty Tabor won't treat him well any more. That's what's the trouble, Willie."

"We'll see what it is," said the manager, checking her flow of defense curtly. "I'll have him up. You run into the other room with the sewing and--don't listen."

His telephone call found McCarthy in his room, and the young third baseman promptly ascended to the manager's apartment and entered innocently.

"Good morning, Boss," he said, following the burlesque style of greeting used by the Bears to their manager.

"Good morning," said Clancy curtly, as he scrutinized the face of the player for signs of a debauch and found the blue eyes clear and fresh.

"You wanted to see me?" inquired McCarthy, thrown a little off his easy bearing.

"Yes--where were you last night?"

"I--in my room"--he suddenly remembered the excursion with Swanson. "I was out for a while," he concluded lamely.

"Were you in the cafe of the Metropolis Hotel late?"

"Yes," confessed McCarthy, bridling at the tone employed by the manager. "I was in there."

"Drinking?"

"Yes--lemonade."

"Nothing stronger?"

"No."

"No wine?"

"No--I'm not in the wine cla.s.s."

"Who were you with?"

"You're the manager," said McCarthy quietly, although he was rebellious inwardly. "You may ask me anything you want to about myself or my actions--but you surely don't expect me to tell on anyone else?"

"I don't want you to tell on any ball player--but who were you with?"

"I'm not at liberty to tell."

"You needn't tell me--I know," said the manager angrily. "You got up out of bed to go there to meet Easy Ed Edwards--and you were with him while three of you drank four quarts of wine."

For an instant McCarthy clenched his hands until the nails bit into the palms, and a flood of angry color flashed into his face. With an effort he controlled himself.

"You've got everything backwards," he said at last, gazing straight at the angry manager. "I can't explain just now--but you'll find out some day--and apologize."

He turned without another word and left the room. Clancy, who had expected angry denials, threats, perhaps a personal encounter, sat gazing at the closed door, and then to himself he said:

"It looks bad, but hanged if I don't believe him. No fellow could lie and look like that."

CHAPTER XII

_McCarthy Defies Barney Baldwin_

"Pardridge, playing third base in place of McCarthy, Holleran in left.

Morton and Kennedy, battery for the Bears."

This announcement, bawled by a battery of megaphone men in front of the crowded stands that afternoon was the first intimation that McCarthy had of the contemplated action of Manager Clancy in taking him out of the game. He sprang from the end of the bench, where he was tying his shoes, toward the manager, an angry exclamation on his lips, and his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng as they narrowed to the battle slit. Swanson, who was sitting next him, fondling a bat, seized McCarthy with his tremendous grip and jerked him back to his seat.

"Steady, boy, steady," the big Swede cautioned. "Take your medicine.

Show your gameness."

"I'm laid off," said McCarthy as if astonished. "It isn't right. He's laying me off for something he thinks I did"----

"Don't quit--be game," cautioned Swanson. "Tell me about it to-night."

McCarthy was miserable, and his face revealed it. Swanson, hardened by years of facing such little tragedies, of seeing the hearts of young players broken under such punishment, sympathized, but preserved a cheerful demeanor as he selected his bats and prepared for the battle.

"Buck up, Jimmy boy," said Swanson, sitting down beside him and pretending to be retying his shoe laces. "We'll win this one anyhow, and to-night we'll have a talk with Clancy after he cools down. I can square things with him."

The comforting words of the kindly, big shortstop helped McCarthy.

Clancy did not look toward the youngster, who sat huddled in his heavy sweaters on the opposite end of the bench watching the game and going over and over in his mind the circ.u.mstances that had led to his punishment and banishment from the team.

The game proceeded rapidly. The Bears scored a run in the second inning on Swanson's long drive against the left field fence for three bases, and a fly to the outfield, on which Swanson came by sliding under the catcher. In the fourth the Travelers evened up the score on an error by Pardridge, who, off his balance by his sudden change of position, threw wild and allowed a runner to score from second base.

The score remained tied until the fifth, neither team being able to hit the opposing pitcher's delivery hard enough to send home a run. Then Pardridge misplayed an easy bounder and, recovering, hurled wildly toward second base, striving to force out a runner coming down from first. His throw went on high and far into right field, one runner scored, the batter was perched on second and the crowd was in a tumult, thinking that the inevitable break had come. A cras.h.i.+ng base-hit sent home another runner, and with the score 3 to 1 against them the Bears faced one of the supreme tests of nerve of the season.