Radio Boys Loyalty Part 14

Gus went to bat and struck out. Little Kerry lifted a fly to left field that the fielder m.u.f.fed and let roll, so that Kerry slid into second when the sphere was coming back again. Morton, a new man, struck out as though he were not sure whether he was fighting bears, or was merely in a debate, and Dixon hit a grounder to second and was caught out on first. Still no runs.

Gus always had the short step forward, always the uplifted arm that did not double forward at once. It was possibly confusing, instead of a notice to the batter to get ready, as one might have imagined. Quite a number of b.a.l.l.s were called against Gus--fast, slow ones, up-shoots--but never four. Three batters went out in quick succession.

In the third inning Maxwell slowed up a little and the scrubs became wider awake. One of the new men who had, he declared, played ball very little and never shown a genius for hitting, sent a liner between pitcher and first that put him on his base. One of the regulars' former subst.i.tutes. .h.i.t another grounder that let him on first and the new man on second. The third and fourth man, their second time at bat, struck out again and then came big Sadler to the plate. His very first crack sent a fly so high and wide that the center and left fielders fell all over themselves in their effort to get it, while the center man made a wild throw, so that Sadler rather easily accomplished a home run.

It was three runs for the scrubs, as Gus again struck out. The third at the bat for the regulars proved to be "ancient history," another expression of Sadler's, with this difference: Siebold took his base on four b.a.l.l.s, but he didn't get any farther than first.

Little Kerry knocked another liner and this the man on second dropped, the short-stop getting it too late to first. Morton again went out.

Dixon hit a liner for two bases that let Kerry in and again the new genius proved himself such by getting in a fly that on errors put him on third. Once more a subst.i.tute who after two fouls knocked a ball almost within reach over the first baseman's head, made another home run on errors. The fourth was caught out on a foul, the fifth struck out and Sadler knocked another fly that was caught. Six runs for the scrubs--the regulars nothing.

Smiling, Gus came again to the box. Three batters in quick succession, after only three b.a.l.l.s were called for two of them, struck out. They seemed to have no idea where the b.a.l.l.s were pa.s.sing, and little Kerry staggered back with every one sent in, though he, too, was smiling. And then, before the regulars could again take their places, something else occurred.

Siebold merely said: "Hold on, fellows!" He walked straight up to Gus, caught him by the arm and pulled him over toward Bill and Mr. Gay.

"See here," said Siebold; "I'm no piker. I've been dead wrong and n.o.body has to tell me. So, Grier, honestly I never saw such pitching outside of the national leagues. And if you'll let me, I want to be friends, and I want you on the team. Mr. Gay, you're right: Maxwell on first and you, Grier, in the box. Are you with us?"

Siebold extended his hand and Gus shook it warmly. The captain turned to Bill. "You, too. We have to thank you for this business, the best stroke of luck we have ever had."

Bill shook Siebold's hand with as much gusto as he would have that of any downright hero. A fellow who could muzzle his pride and do the square thing in this manner, especially after he had been licked in a way that hurt, was a real man.

"And look here, Brown! I've generally messed up this captain business and the managing too; and you have got together a team in short order that I wouldn't have believed could have slammed us for six runs. Will you manage us? I'll see that you are elected. Grier can be cap----"

"No, sir," said Bill. "Gus doesn't want to be captain. You'll remain captain, Siebold, or we'll both take our doll clothes and go home. But I will try my hand at advising, if you wish. 'Two heads,' you know----"

"Hurrah!" shouted Siebold. "Brown is manager! And we've got a pitcher now! We're going to lick those Guilford fellows so bad they'll think they've got brain fever!"

CHAPTER XX

MARSHALLTON _versus_ GUILFORD

Bill for once laid aside everything but his studies to give his attention to the game with Guilford Academy, the last athletic contest of the school year. It was played at Guilford, where the grounds were fenced in and tickets of invitation given. As manager of the visiting team, Bill had his quota to distribute in and outside of the Tech. With his characteristic thoroughness he saw that no one was slighted who was at all worthy, rich or poor. This was not so liberally managed at the Guilford end.

The grand stand was pretty well filled, but Bill had reserved some good seats and to these he conducted the Farrells and their niece, stopping to tell them that Gus was pitching and that they must root for Marshallton, which of course they did. After this, with some tickets left over, Bill went outside and skirted the grounds, finding a dozen youngsters hunting holes in the fence, and to these he gave his remaining tickets. Not so long ago, he had been just such a youngster himself, and he had an abounding sympathy for those who possessed the keenest capacity for enjoyment, but were excluded without just reason.

The game was typical of such contests between schools of the kind in all except the performance of Gus in the box. That youth, always smiling, never self-conscious enough even to acknowledge the plaudits meant for him, not only pitched with professional skill, but in his every movement showed a grace which demanded attention.

From the first inning the result was a foregone conclusion. The home team held the visitors to no runs and went to bat with the utmost confidence, only to be retired, one, two, three, on strikes. They shut the visitors out again, and two of them got on bases to remain there and die. They let Siebold come home on Wilde's fly and errors and were again fanned.

They repeated this, with little Kerry at bat and only one of them made a hit, the ball lodging in the pitcher's extended hand. They fought hard and retired the Techs for three more innings, meeting the same fate themselves. Then their pitcher weakened and the team went to pieces, with three men on bases, and Wilde let them all come home on a long grounder, but himself died on second, with two others out on strikes.

They went to pieces again when Sadler knocked a fly over the fence and made a home run, or rather a home walk, and they again were retired in rapid succession. Score, six to nothing, and the Marshallton crowd, including the dignified president of Tech, the instructors to a man, the Farrells and a lot of other sympathizers yelled their throats sore, a bunch of fans going for Gus, hoisting him on high and marching around with him, singing a school chantey:

"He's the stuff, He treats 'em rough, He gives 'em easily more than enough.

He's awful tough He is no bluff, He made 'em look like a powder puff.

He's fast and quick, They couldn't handle ball or stick.

He's winning d.i.c.k, They got his kick, They think they're slaughtered with a brick!"

And so on for half a dozen or so silly verses of the kind, Gus, meanwhile, suffering both physically and mentally, for being thus tossed about is by no means comfortable, and his modesty was such as to make him want to run and hide.

And then the gang went for Bill, but Doctor Field protected him and they expended their enthusiasm on Captain Siebold, Sadler and little Kerry, the catcher. After which Guilford asked for a return match, but the term was nearly ended and that must go over until next year.

"I wish," said Bill to Doctor Field, as they journeyed homeward, "that Tony Sabaste could have been here to see this game."

CHAPTER XXI

A CLUE

Exams and exercises were over and the students mostly gone. A few remained to brush up on studies, or to complete work begun in the shop.

Bill and Gus were among these. They had an order from one of the professors for a very fine radio receiver and it was not quite finished.

The matron and cooks had vanished and the boys had to get their own meals. As one after another of the lingerers left, the dormitory became quieter, almost oppressively lonesome, to Bill at least, who was social by nature; but Gus, the hermit, rather enjoyed it.

Listening in over the radio was not neglected. It served to cheer the monotony. Not only were the boys alive to the advertised concerts and entertainments, but they caught a tangle of outside waves that was often quite amusing.

Only two more days were required for them to finish their job. They had decided to let their receiver remain, as they were to occupy the same room next term, and now two receivers at home would serve. The loud speaker had been removed, adjustments made, and now Bill sat at the little table with the 'phones clamped on his ears.

Suddenly he called to Gus: "Get 'em on! Get em' on, quick! Somebody is sending a message out to Marconi--only the end of it now, though."

"--be most honored, I a.s.sure you," came through the air. "Several whom I think you will be glad to meet will be there and we shall be glad to have a word from you." There was a pause.

"It's an invitation to a banquet, or something," Gus said.

"Sure. I wonder if he's going to accept." This from Bill.

"When did he come back? I thought he sailed away last fall."

"Been back a week; read it in the paper. He's on his boat again, the _El_--listen! He's talking."

"Marconi speaking. Gentlemen of the Society of Electrical Research, I shall accept with much pleasure, but please do not put me down for an extended speech. Only a few remarks--probably on my subject. But I shall make no reference to Mars; my interest in that is almost nil. That is a newspaper romance, and I am really getting very tired of being misunderstood. I would be very glad if, in the course of the evening, someone would jestingly refer to this and absolve me from holding such untenable ideas. I thank you. I shall be there."

"Gee-whiz, Gus, I wonder if the time will ever come when we'll get invitations like that, eh? And say, he doesn't take any stock in that message-from-Mars foolishness."

"Well, I guess it's silly, all right," Gus agreed.

"Why, sure. They can't even tell if Mars has any life on it, and if it has, it is mighty unlikely that any kind of creatures have developed brains enough to understand radio. Shucks! No real scientist will waste his time on any guesswork like that. We want to know more through the telescope first."

"But maybe the telescope can't tell us--then what? We want to get at it anyway we can, don't we?"

"Oh, I suppose, in any sensible, possible, likely way, but not on such a supposition. It would be like shooting at the moon: _if_ a high-powered gun could get its projectile beyond our attraction of gravitation and _if_ it were aimed right, why, then the shot might hit the mark. Too blamed many 'ifs.' And some of the greatest astronomers say Mars isn't inhab--what's this?"

A very distant, not easily understood voice came to them. There seemed to be some interference which not even their well-made loose coupler could filter out. Apparently there could be nothing very entertaining about this, except the desire to get the better of a difficult task.