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Hitting a Teacher
“Look out now, fellows; here goes for a high one!”“Aw come off; you can’t throw high without dislocating your arm, Peaches. Don’t try it.”“You get off the earth; I can so, Teeter. Watch me.”“Let Joe Matson have a try. He can throw higher than you can, Peaches,” and the lad who had last spoken grasped the arm of a tall boy, with a very fair complexion which had gained him the nickname of “Peaches and Cream,” though it was usually shortened to “Peaches.” There was a crowd of lads on the school grounds, throwing snowballs, when the offer of “Peaches” or Dick Lantfeld was made.“Don’t let him throw, Teeter,” begged George Bland, jokingly. “I’ll not,” retorted “Teeter” Nelson, whose first name was Harry, but who had gained his appellation because of a habit he had of “teetering” on his tiptoes when reciting in class. “I’ve got Peaches all right,” and there was a struggle between the two lads, one trying to throw a snowball, and the other trying to prevent him.“Come on, Joe,” called Teeter, to a tall, good-looking, and rather quiet youth who stood beside a companion. “Let’s see you throw. You’re always good at it, and I’ll keep Peaches out of the way.”“Shall we try, Tom?” asked Joe Matson of his chum.“Might as well. Come on!”“Yes, let ‘Sister’ Davis have a whack at it too,” urged George Bland. Tom Davis, who was Joe Matson’s particular chum, was designated “Sister” because, in an incautious moment, when first coming to Excelsior Hall, he had shown a picture of his very pretty sister, Mabel.Tom and Joe, who had come upon the group of other pupils after the impromptu snowball throwing contest had started, advanced further toward their school companions. Peaches and Teeter were still engaged in their friendly struggle, until Peaches tripped over a stone, concealed under a blanket of snow, and both went down in a struggling heap.“Make it a touchdown!” yelled George Bland.“Yes, shove him over the line, Peaches!” cried Tom.“Hold him! Hold him!” implored Joe, and the little group of lads, which was increased by the addition of several other pupils, circled about the struggling ones, laughing at their plight.“D-d-down!” finally panted Peaches, when Teeter held his face in the soft snow. “Let me up, will you?”“Promise not to try to throw a high one?” asked Teeter, still maintaining his position astride of Peaches.“Yes—I—I guess so.”“That doesn’t go...
Planning a Battle
Professor Elias Rodd was rather elderly, and, as he never took much exercise, his sprinting abilities were not pronounced. So it took him about a minute and a half to cross the campus to where the little group of lads awaited him—anxious waiting it was too, on the part of Joe and Peaches. And in that minute and a half, before the excitement begins, I want to take the opportunity to tell you something about Joe Matson, and his chum Tom Davis, and how they happened to be at Excelsior Hall.Those of you who have read the first volume of this series entitled, “Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars,” need no introduction to our hero. Sufficient to say that he was a lad who thought more of baseball than of any other sport.Joe was the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Matson, and he had a sister named Clara. Joe’s father was an inventor of farming machinery and other apparatus, and had been employed by the Royal Harvester Works of Riverside, which was located on the Appleby River, in one of our New England States. Joe lived in Riverside, his family having moved there from Bentville.In the previous story I told how Joe made the acquaintance of Tom Davis, who lived in the house back of him. Joe became interested in the Silver Stars, the Riverside amateur nine, and through doing a favor for Darrell Blackney, the manager, was given a position in the field.But Joe wanted to become a pitcher, and, in fact, had pitched for the Bentville Boosters. He longed to fill the box for the Stars, and was finally given a chance. But he had incurred the enmity of Sam Morton, the regular pitcher, and there were several clashes between them. Finally Joe displaced Sam and won many games for the Stars.Mr. Matson had some trouble with his inventions, for Isaac Benjamin, manager of the harvester works, and Rufus Holdney, the latter once a friend of the inventor, determined to get certain valuable patents away from Mr. Matson. How they nearly succeeded, and how Joe foiled the plans of the plotters once, is told in the first book.Though Joe aided his father considerably, the young pitcher never lost his interest in baseball, and when, at the last moment, word came that Mr. Matson had seemingly lost everything, Joe hid his own feelings and went off to pitch...
An Angry Bully
“Well, why don’t one of you fellows open the door?” demanded Peaches in a hoarse whisper from his point of vantage under the table. “If it’s one of the ‘profs.’ or a monitor, he’ll get wise if you wait all this while.”It might be explained that there was a rule at Excelsior Hall against students visiting in their classmates’ rooms at certain hours of the day, unless permission had been secured from the professor or monitor in charge of the dormitory. Needless to say Peaches had not secured any such permission—the lads seldom did.“Aren’t you going to open it?” again demanded Peaches, from where he had taken refuge, so as to be out of sight, should the caller prove to be some one in authority.“Yes—certainly—of course,” replied Joe. “Tom, you open the door.”Once more came the knock.“Open it yourself,” insisted Tom. “It’s as much your room as it is mine. Go ahead.”But there was no need for any one to first encounter the stern gaze of some professor, if such the unannounced caller should prove to be. The knock was repeated and then a voice demanded:“Say, you fellows needn’t pretend not to be in there. I can hear you whispering. What’s up?” and with that the portal swung open and Teeter Nelson entered. He advanced to the middle of the room and stood moving up and down on his tiptoes.“I like your nerve!” he went on. “Having a spread and not tipping a fellow off. Is it all gone?” and with a sweep of his arm he sent the paper cover flying from over the half-emptied ginger ale glasses. “Where’s Peaches?” he demanded. “I know he’s out, for I was at his den, and there’s not a soul in. He’s got a ‘dummy’ in the bed, but it’s rank. Wouldn’t fool anybody.”“Then you must have spoiled it!” exclaimed Peaches, sticking his head out from beneath the table, the cloth draping itself around his neck like a lady’s scarf. “I made a dandy figure. It would fool even Sixteen himself; and then I sneaked out. I made it look as natural as could be. I’ll bet you did something to it.”“Only punched it a couple of times to see if it was you,” retorted Teeter. “But say, what’s going on? Why didn’t you open when I knocked?”“Thought it was a prof.,” replied Joe. “Why didn’t you give the code knock. Tat—rat-a-tat-tat—tat-tat—and...
Joe Learns Something
Joe Matson had been in fights before. Some had been forced upon him, and he accepted the challenges for sufficient reasons, and had given a good account of himself in the battles. Other fistic encounters had been of his own seeking and for excellent reasons he had generally come out ahead.The prospective fight with the bully was very sudden. Joe had seen what he considered a mean trick on Hiram’s part and had thrown on the impulse of the moment. He rather regretted his hasty action, but it was too late for regrets now, and he was willing to accept the outcome.“I’m going to make you wish you’d never come to Excelsior Hall!” cried Hiram, and with that he expected the blow which he had aimed at Joe to land on the countenance of our hero.But, like the celebrated flea of history, who, as the Dutchman said, “ven you put your finger on him, dot flea he aind’t dere!” so it was with Joe. He cleverly ducked, and then waited for what would happen next.Something did happen with a vengeance. Hiram had rushed up the slippery, sloping, inner wall of the fort to get at Joe, and pummel him for sending the snowball smashing into his face, but when Joe turned aside, and Hiram’s fist went through the air like a batter fanning over a swift ball, the bully was unable to recover himself.He overbalanced, clawed vainly at the atmosphere, made a grab for Joe, who took good care to keep well out of reach, and then Hiram Shell went slipping and sliding down the outside wall of the snow fort, turning over several times ere he landed at the bottom, amid a pile of the white flakes.In his descent he struck several lads who were swarming up to the attack, and these Hiram bowled over like tenpins, so that when he came to rest he was in the centre of a pile of heaving bodies, and of threshing and swaying arms and legs, like a football player downed after a long run.“Get off me, you fellows!” yelled Hiram, when he could get his breath. “I’ll punch some of you good and hard for this!”“And you’ll get punched yourself if you don’t take your feet out of my face!” retorted Peaches, who was one of the few pupils not afraid of the bully.“Where’s that Joe Matson? I’ve got a score...
The Tables Turned
“Well, Joe, what do you think about it?” Tom Davis glanced at his chum across the room as he asked this question. It was several hours after the snow battle, and the two lads were studying, or making a pretense at it.“Think about what, Tom?”“Oh, you know what I mean—what happened to-day, and how it’s going to affect your chances for the nine. They look rather slim, don’t they?”“Well, Tom, I don’t mind admitting that they do. I didn’t know Hiram was such a high-mucky-muck in baseball here. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. He and I would have had a clash sooner or later, anyhow, and it might as well be first as last.”“It’s too blamed bad though,” went on Tom.“Yes,” agreed Joe, “especially as I picked out Excelsior Hall because their nine had so many victories to its credit, and because it had a good reputation. That’s what partly induced you to come here, too, I guess.”“Well, yes, in a way. Of course I like baseball, but I’m not so crazy after it as you are. Maybe that’s why I’m not such a good player. If I can hold down first, or play out in the field, it suits me; but you——”“I want to be pitcher or nothing,” interrupted Joe with a smile, “but I’m afraid I’m a long way from the box now.”“Yes, from what I can hear, Hiram has the inside track in the baseball game. He’s manager chiefly because he puts up a lot of money for the team, and because his friends, what few he has, are officers in the organization.”“Who’s captain?” asked Joe. “Maybe I could induce him to let me play even if Hiram is down on me.”“Nothing doing there,” replied Tom quickly. “Luke Fodick is captain, or, rather he was last year, I hear, and he’s slated for the same position this season. Luke and Hiram are as thick as such fellows always are. When Hiram is hit Luke does the boo-hoo act for him. No, Luke will be down on you as much as his crony is. But maybe we can get up a second nine, and play some games on our own hook!”“None of that!” Joe exclaimed quickly. “I’m not an insurgent. I play with the regulars or not at all. They’d be saying all sorts of things against me if you and I tried to start...
The Bully Sneers
“Well, you ought to get out a patent on this,” remarked Joe, when they resumed the eating of the pie and the drinking of the pop, following the withdrawal of the professor.“You sure had,” agreed Tom. “Let Joe give you some points. His father has taken out several patents.”“Oh, I guess we’ll make it free for all—any fellow is welcome to the idea,” replied Teeter. “So your dad’s an inventor, eh, Matson?”“Yes, harvester machinery—his latest was a corn reaper and binder, and he nearly lost it,” and Joe briefly told how Isaac Benjamin and Rufus Holdney had nearly ruined his father, as related in detail in “Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars.”“Ever hear anything more of those fellows?” asked Tom, following the recital of the schemes of the plotters.“No, they seem to have disappeared,” answered Joe. “They cleared out after dad won his case in the courts. But he’s on the watch for them, he told me. His business isn’t all settled yet, and there is some danger. But I guess Benjamin or Holdney won’t bother him, though some other rascals may.”“Anything more to eat?” asked Peaches, during the pause that followed.“Say, what are you, a human refrigerator?” demanded Teeter. “I couldn’t carry any more pie if I tried.”“It’ll be our treat next time,” observed Joe. “Why didn’t George Bland come with you?”“Had to bone on trigonometry, I guess,” replied Peaches.“Does he play on the team?” Joe wanted to know.“Yes, we all do. George is short, I’m on third, and Teeter holds down first sometimes. But you never can tell what Hiram is going to do. He and Luke are always making shifts, and that’s what lost us the Blue Banner last season. The fellows would no more than get familiar with their positions than Hiram would shift ’em. Oh, he runs things to suit himself.”The hour of ten boomed out from the big school clock and the visitors left.“Spring fever!” exclaimed Joe one day, as he and Tom came from a physics lecture. “Yes, I’ve got it, too,” admitted Tom. “It’s in the air, and I’m glad of it. What’s that Shakespeare says about ‘now is the winter of our discontent?’”“Oh, cheese it! Don’t begin spouting poetry. Besides I’m not sure it was Shakespeare, and I don’t give a hang. All I know is that Spring is coming, and soon they’ll begin getting the diamond in shape.”“Precious lot of...
A Clash with Luke
For several minutes Joe stood staring after the baseball manager. The young pitcher’s arm hung listlessly at his side. There was a look on his face that would have been sad, had Joe been that kind of a lad—showing his feelings needlessly. But our hero was full of spunk and grit, and, though Hiram’s unnecessarily cruel words hurt him grievously, Joe shut his teeth with a firmer grip, squared his shoulders, drew himself up, and then he smiled at Tom.“Well, of all the mean, unmitigated, low-down, cantankerous, sneaking, bulldozing and——” sputtered the first baseman.“Hold on!” exclaimed his companion. “You’ll blow up if you go on that way, Tom. Besides, save some of those big words for a time when you may need ’em.”“Need ’em? Say if I don’t need ’em now I never will. I wish I had thought to get rid of a few when that bully was here.” “You’d only gotten into trouble. Better keep still about it.”“I can’t Joe. Just think of it! We came here to play ball, and the first crack out of the box that fellow goes and tells us we can’t.”“Well, I don’t know as I have any particular right to play on the nine here.”“Yes, you have, the best right in the world! I’ll bet they haven’t got a pitcher here who can stand up to you, and I’m going to tell that sneaking bully so, too,” and Tom started off after the departing Hiram.“No, don’t!” cried Joe quickly. “It will only make matters worse.”“But you want to pitch; don’t you?”“Sure, but that would be the best way in the world to insure that I wouldn’t. Hiram Shell is just the kind of a fellow who, if he thinks a chap wants anything, is going to do his best—or worst—to stop him.”“What are you going to do then?”“I’m going to lie low and saw wood. The baseball season hasn’t opened yet. The team isn’t made up. Nobody knows who is going to play and——”“Well, Hiram as good as told us two fellows who weren’t going to play,” interrupted Tom. “That’s you and I.”“Wait a bit,” advised Joe. “I was going to say that when the season has started and several games have been played there may be a change. I may get a chance to play then, just as I did on the Stars. I’m willing to wait. The Summer is long,...
“Who Will Pitch?”
For a moment there was silence—a sort of awed silence—and Teeter uttered a faint cheer.“That’s the way to talk!” he exclaimed.“You’re all right!” declared Peaches.Luke turned and glared at them. Afterward several lads said the bully’s toady looked dazed, as if he did not understand what had happened.“He’ll go tell Hiram now, and he’ll be laying for you, Joe,” was Tom’s opinion.“Let him. I’m ready to meet that bully whenever he is, and I’m not afraid, either.”“That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Teeter admiringly. “If Hiram got one good licking he wouldn’t be quite so uppish. But I’m afraid this will put you on the fritz for the nine, Joe.”“I don’t care if it does. I’m going to let ’em know what I think.”Yet in the quietness of his room that night Joe rather regretted what he had done. He realized that he might have turned off Luke’s insult with a laugh.“For if I had done so I’d stand a better chance of getting on the nine,” mused Joe.Then a different feeling came to him.“No, I couldn’t do that either,” he reflected. “I’m not built that way. I’m not going to lie down and be walked on, nine or no nine, and I’m going to find some way to play ball, at that!”There was a determined look on Joe’s face, and he squared his shoulders in a way that meant business. If Hiram and his crony could have seen our hero then they might not have been so sure of what they would do to him.“So that’s how he acted, eh?” asked the bully, when his crony had reported to him what Joe had said. “Well, he’ll get his all right. He’ll never play ball here as long as I am manager.”“No, nor while I’m captain,” added Luke. “Nor that friend of his either, Tom Davis.”“That’s right; we’ll make it so hot here for both of ’em that they’ll leave at the end of the term,” predicted Hiram.What a pity he did not know that Joe and Tom were not of the “leaving” kind. The hotter it was the better they liked it, for they both came of fighting stock.But with all his nerve, and not regretting in the least what he had done, Joe was a bit uneasy as the time for the baseball organization meeting drew near. He hoped against hope that somehow he might get on the...
Tom’s Plan Fails
“The meeting will come to order!” called Hiram. “I’ll cuff some of you fellows over the head if you don’t sit down.”It was rather an unparliamentary way of doing things, but it proved effective, and at length quiet reigned. As Peaches had said, Hiram began by stating what they were there for, and by announcing that the make-up of the nine was in order.Some unimportant business was disposed of, there were remarks from several lads about what the season might have in store, there were many determinations expressed about how well the Excelsior team would play that season, and then Hiram said:“Nominations for the team are in order. Of course we expect that there will be a lot more fellows named than we can use, but there’ll probably be a weeding-out when we get at practice. The team named to-night will only be a tentative one.” “Like pie!” murmured Tom. “You and Luke have it all up your sleeves.”“Has the nominating committee anything to report?” asked Hiram, looking over at Luke. His crony arose. Luke was chairman of the nominating committee, as well as chairman of the committee on membership.“Your committee would recommend the following names,” said Luke, and then he read off most of those named by Peaches to Tom. He did not call off his own name, however, and there was a blank opposite the positions of pitcher and left field.“Say, what’s the matter, don’t I play?” demanded Peaches, jumping up.“Oh, yes,” answered Luke quickly. “But we haven’t just decided where. I’m going to leave that with Hiram, and also the position for left field.”“Well, I’ll settle it right now!” exclaimed the manager. “You’ll play left field, Peaches, and Charlie Borden will move up from there to first base.”“What did I tell you?” murmured Peaches to Tom. “What about the stunt you were going to pull off?”“It isn’t time yet. See the gang I have with me?” and Tom motioned to a lot of lads in the rear of the hall.“What is it—a rough house?” asked Peaches, and then he noticed for the first time that the athletic meeting was much better attended than usual.“Those are new members,” declared Tom in a whisper. “I’m counting on turning the balance of power away from Hiram and the crowd with him. I’ve been canvassing the last week, and I’ve got a lot of fellows to join who never took an...
The Banner Parade
Instantly following Hiram’s words a hub-bub burst out in the gymnasium. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and the crowd of boys split up into two factions.There were those who were with Joe and Tom in their contention, and who thought that they had not been given a fair opportunity. Among these were, of course, the lads who had not hitherto belonged to the athletic committee, and who had been induced by Tom to put in their applications.On the other side were what might be called the “conservatives,” those who, while not exactly favoring Hiram and his high-handed methods, preferred to take the easiest way and let the old order of things prevail.Then, too, was a smaller crowd of distinct “Shellites” as Peaches dubbed them—friends and close cronies of the manager who sided with him in all things and looked upon him as a sort of hero. Chief among them, of course, was Luke Fodick, and perhaps next in line stood Charlie Borden, who had replaced Peaches at first.“It’s a rotten, mean shame!” burst out Teeter as he came over to where Tom, Joe and Peaches were standing. “I’m not going to stand for it, either!”“Well, what can you do?” asked the practical Peaches. “They have it on us good and proper. There’s the rule.”“Well, I don’t like it, but I’m going to stay here just the same,” snapped Tom.“And so am I,” added Joe frankly. “There’s no use saying I don’t care, for I do. I’d like to get on the team. But if I can’t—why I’ll root for ’em, that’s all.”“Maybe you’ll be picked as one of the subs,” was what Charlie Borden said. “We always have lots of them to make up the scrub nine. But frankly, Matson, I don’t think you’ll pitch. Frank Brown is going to make good, and if he doesn’t Larry Akers will.”He turned to join some of his own particular crowd, and with them continued the discussion of the unexpected turn given to the athletic meeting. Hiram and Luke were surrounded by a throng of their cronies, and from time to time there could be heard from them such remarks as:“Serves ’em good and right for trying to butt in.”“What right have new fellows to try to run our affairs for us, anyhow?”“You sat on ’em proper, Hiram.”“Yes, Luke and I fixed up that scheme,” answered the bully, with no little...
Joe Hopes and Fears
Around the Morningside diamond marched the singing, cheering and yelling lads. The Blue Banner fluttered in the Spring breeze, and not a student in the crowd but either hoped it would stay in the possession of the present owners, or would come to his school, the desires varying according to the allegiance of the wisher.It was a gala occasion for the town of Morningside, this Blue Banner parade, and the people turned out in great numbers to watch the lads. Throngs came from neighboring towns and villages, and some even from a distant city, for the boys could always be depended on to make the occasion enjoyable.The Excelsior Hall crowd did some new “stunts.” Under the leadership of Luke and Hiram they rendered some odd songs and yells, and then, as they passed around the public square, Hiram executed his main surprise. The leader of Excelsior, none other than Luke Fodick, had been carrying a pole, on the top of which was a canvas bundle. It was tied about with strings in such a manner that, by pulling on one cord the wrapping would fall off, as when a statue is unveiled. To all questions as to what was on the pole under the canvas Luke and Hiram returned only evasive replies.But on reaching the public square, when the cheering was at its height, Luke pulled the string. At once there floated from the staff an “effigy” of the Blue Banner. It was made of blue calico and worked on it in strands of yellow rope were the words:We’ll have the real banner this year!Surmounting the odd trophy was a stuffed eagle, rather the worse for being moth-eaten, and worn “to a frazzle,” as Tom said. But it made a hit, and the yells of laughter bore evidence of how the crowd appreciated it.“Guess we’ve made good all right,” said Hiram to his crony. “There’s nothing else like it in the parade.”“That’s right,” answered Luke. “Oh, it takes us to do things.”“And sometimes not do them,” murmured Teeter. “We ought to have the real banner.” “Maybe we will,” spoke Joe.The other schools had their own specialties in singing, cutting queer capers, or in cheers, and made hits in their own way. Around the square marched the lads, and then, with a final chorus, rendered by all the students, the parade was over. Back to Morningside Academy they went, and sat...
On the Scrub
“It doesn’t take Peaches long to make up his mind,” remarked Tom.“No, he’s always right on the job,” agreed Teeter.“It’s mighty good of him—and all of you—to go to all this trouble and fuss on my account,” added Joe. “I appreciate it, too.”“Nonsense!” exclaimed Teeter, as he balanced himself on his toes to see if it was safe to indulge in any more cheese and ginger snaps. “We’re glad to do it. I only hope you do make the team, and pitch, at that.”“If I can pitch on the scrub, I’ll be satisfied for a while.”“We want to make Excelsior the best nine in the league this year,” went on Teeter. “We’ve got to have the Blue Banner, and one way we can cinch it is to have a good pitcher.”“Thanks!” laughed Joe. “Well, I mean it,” resumed Teeter, helping himself to a handful of the crisp snaps. “That’s where our weak point was last season. Many a game we gave away after we had it practically won, just because our pitchers went up in the air. And I’m afraid it’ll be the same now. Frank Brown isn’t much, unless he’s improved a whole lot over season, and I don’t believe he has. And as for Larry Akers—well, he’s only a makeshift. Now, I’d like to see——”But Teeter’s little talk was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. For a moment the lads gazed anxiously at each other, and Tom made a grab for one of the fake books, but a look of relief came over their faces when the door opened and Peaches entered, followed by some one.“I brought Ward with me,” explained the lad with the fair complexion. “Thought it was the safest way. Come on in, Ward; I guess these Indians haven’t scalped all the grub.”“Yes, fall to,” invited Teeter. “There’s plenty.”“Charmed, I’m sure,” murmured Ward with an assumed society air.“You know Joe Matson, of course,” went on Peaches. “Oh, sure. He beat me in physics class the other week and I haven’t forgotten it.”“He wants to pitch on the scrub,” went on the originator of the scheme. “He’s all to the mustard, too, and——”“Say, let me say a word for myself,” put in Joe. “I’m not a political candidate in the hands of my friends. Is there a show for me on the scrub, Ward?”“Well, I haven’t made up the team yet, and...
Joe’s Great Work
“Let her go, Doctor!”“Make him hit it, Professor!”“Strike him out!”“Give him an old Greek curve!”These were some of the cries that reached Dr. Fillmore as he stood in Joe’s place in the pitching box. The president of the faculty smiled pleasantly. He was used to this mild “joshing,” which was always indulged in by the lads of Excelsior on the occasion of the opening of the season. Not that it was at all offensive; in fact, it rather showed the good feeling existing between the instructors and their pupils.“Are you all ready?” asked Dr. Fillmore, as though he was inquiring whether a student was prepared to recite, and as if he really expected to pitch a ball that was to be hit.“Play ball!” called Harvey Hallock, who was umpiring. “Not too swift now, if you please, Doctor,” stipulated Nat Pierson, who was first up.Then the venerable president delivered the new, white horsehide sphere. He threw rather awkwardly, but with more accuracy than might have been expected from a man who had a ball in his hands but once a year. Right over the plate it went, and though usually the initial ball was never struck at, Nat could not resist the opportunity.He “bunted,” and the ball popped up in the air and sailed back toward the pitcher’s box. To the surprise of all, Dr. Fillmore stepped forward and neatly caught it.“Hurray!”“That’s the stuff!”“Put him on the team!”“Why didn’t you say you were a ball-player, Doctor?”“Let him play the game!”These and many other cries greeted the president’s performance. He bowed again, gravely, and smiled genially as he tossed the ball to Joe, who was waiting for it. A little round of applause came from some members of the faculty who had accompanied the doctor to the grounds, and then the head of the school walked off the diamond amid a riot of cheers. The baseball season at Excelsior Hall had opened under auspicious occasions everyone thought, and more than one lad had great hopes that the Blue Banner would come back there to stay for a while.“Play ball!” called the umpire again, and this time the game was on in earnest.Joe dug a little hole for the toe of his shoe, revolved the ball in his hands a few times, and looked to get the signal from Bob Harrison, the scrub catcher.Bob, who knew the individual characteristics of each batter better...
The Game at Morningside
Interest, especially for Joe, centered in what Frank Brown, the school pitcher, might do. So, as a matter of fact, was the attention of nearly all the players and spectators on him. For, to a large extent, the victories of the Excelsior team would depend on what their battery could do. Of course it was up to the other players to lend them support, but it was pretty well established that if the pitcher and catcher did well, support would not be lacking.At the catching end of it Luke Fodick could be depended on nearly every time. But Frank Brown had yet to show what he could do as a twirler. In practice he had made out fairly well, but now the real test was to come.Naturally he was a bit nervous as he walked to the box, to face his first opponent, none other than Ward Gerard, the scrub captain; and Ward was a good hitter. He managed to hit a two bagger.Luke and Hiram cast anxious looks at each other. Well they knew how much depended on the showing their pitcher would make.“Watch yourself, Frank,” called Hiram—just the very advice to make poor Frank more nervous. But he braced up, struck out the next man, and managed to hold the succeeding one hitless.The school nine was now about in the same position as the scrub had been. Their opponents had a man on third and two out. It was a time when Frank needed to brace up, and repeat Joe’s trick. But he could not do it. Joe himself came to the bat, and with watchful eyes picked out just the ball he wanted after two strikes had been called on him. He rapped out as pretty a single as had been seen on the diamond in many a long day, and brought in Ward with the first run.“Wow! Wow!” yelled the scrubs, capering about. “That’s the way to do it!”Luke and Hiram were almost in a panic. They saw the team they had so carefully built up in danger of disintegration; and holding a hasty conference, warning was sent to every school player to do his very best to get the scrub side out without another run.Frank did it, for he struck out the next man, and Joe died at second. But the scrub had one run and the school nine nothing. It was a poor beginning...
A Strange Discovery
“Three cheers for Excelsior Hall!” cried Captain Elmer Dalton of the Morningside team. “All ready boys, with a will!”The cheers were deafening and perhaps they were all the more hearty because it was the winning nine and its supporters who were giving them.The crowd swarmed over the diamond, players and spectators mingling. Everybody was talking at once, the losing side and their supporters trying to explain how the defeat had come about, and the victors exulting in their victory.“I don’t see what’s the matter with you fellows, anyhow,” growled Hiram, as he strode over and joined the little group of disconsolate ones who were walking toward the dressing room. “You ought to have beaten ’em.”“And so we would have if they’d given me decent support,” broke in Luke. “There were too many changes on the team.” “And I suppose you think I’m responsible for that,” retorted Hiram quickly.“I didn’t say so. One thing, though; there’s got to be another change.”“That’s right,” added the manager scowling at the team, but neither he nor Luke intimated where the change ought to be made.“They’re right on that one point,” said Peaches, “a big shift is needed, and I can tell ’em one place to make it, if not two.”“Where?” asked Teeter.“Pitcher for one,” replied Peaches quickly, “and catcher for the other. If we had two good men as a battery there would have been a different story to-day.”“What’s that?” quickly demanded Hiram, turning around, for Peaches had unconsciously spoken louder than he intended.“I said I agreed with you,” spoke the lad diplomatically, “that if we’d had some changes the result would have been different to-day,” but he did not mention the changes.“Well, it’s all over,” remarked Joe to Tom, as they descended from the grandstand. “Let’s get back home. Jove! But it’s too bad to start the season with a defeat.”“Somebody had to lose,” replied Tom philosophically. “We couldn’t both win, and I didn’t expect it would turn out much different when I heard the talk on the way to the game. But it will teach Luke and Hiram a lesson.”“If they want to learn it—yes.”“Oh, don’t worry. They’ll be only too anxious, after to-day. But I notice some of the Trinity Hall and Lakeview Prep. players here. Getting a line on us, I guess.”“Shouldn’t wonder. We play Trinity next week.”“Well, we ought to win that game. Hurry up, Joe, and we can...
A Hot Meeting
“The meeting will come to order!”Teeter was in the chair, looking over a talking, shifting, excited crowd of lads gathered in the school gymnasium. He had assumed the office, and no one had disputed him.“The meeting will come to order!” he cried again.“Order! Order!” begged George Bland and Peaches. “We can’t do anything like this.”“What are we going to do?” asked Tommy Barton.“Try and fix things so we can win ball games,” answered Tom Davis.Joe did not say much. He realized that this was, in a measure, a meeting to aid him, and he felt it would be best to keep quiet. His friends were looking out for his interests.“Order! Order!” begged Teeter again, and after many repetitions, and bangings of his gavel, he succeeded in producing some semblance of quietness.“You all know what we’re here for,” went on Teeter.“No, we don’t; tell us!” shouted some one.“We’re here in the first place to make a protest against the way Hiram Shell and Luke Fodick managed the baseball team to-day,” went on Teeter, “and then we’ll consider what can be done to make things better. We ought to have won against Morningside to-day, and——”“That’s the stuff!”“That’s the way to talk!”“Hit ’em again!”These were a few of the cries that greeted Teeter’s announcement. He was very much in earnest.“This isn’t a regular session of the athletic committee at all,” he resumed. “It’s a protest meeting, and it’s going to be sort of free and easy. Any fellow that wants to can speak his mind. I take it you all agree with me that we ought to do something.”“That’s right!” came in a chorus.“And we ought to protest against Hiram’s high-handed method. What about that?”“That’s right, too,” responded several. Joe looked over the crowd. As far as he could see it was composed in the main of lads who were only probationary members of the school society—lads without voting power.Neither Hiram nor Luke was present, and Joe could not see any of their particular crowd. He was mistaken in thinking that Hiram had no friends there, however, for no sooner had Teeter asked the last question than Jake Weston arose and asked in rather sneering tones:“Do you call this giving a fellow a square deal?”“What do you mean?” inquired Teeter. The room was quiet enough now.“I mean just this,” went on the lad who was perhaps the closest of all on the nine...
The Initiation
For a moment after the unexpected support of Teeter’s ultimatum to Hiram there was a tense silence. The lads who had come in with the bully—his supporting army so to speak—remained grouped around him and Luke. On the other side stood Teeter, Peaches, Tom, Joe and their friends, and a number of the better players of the school nine. Included among them were a number of the substitutes.Hiram Shell looked around him. He must have been aware that his power might slip very easily from him now, unless something was done. It was no time to pursue his usual tactics. He must temporize, but he made up his mind that those who had revolted from his authority would pay dearly for it sooner or later.“Well, what do you fellows want?” he fairly growled.“I’ll tell you what we want,” said Teeter firmly. “In the first place we want this business of shifting players all about, stopped. A fellow gets used to playing in one position and he’s best there. Then you or Luke change him.”“Well, hasn’t the captain the right to do that?” demanded Luke.“Sure, yes,” spoke Peaches, “but when you get a good lad in a good place keep him there.”“Is that all?” sneered Hiram.“No, we think there ought to be better pitching,” went on the self-constituted chairman.“Ha! I guess that’s where the whole trouble is!” cried Hiram quickly. “This meeting is for the benefit of Joe Matson.”“Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Joe quickly. “I knew nothing about it until Teeter told me. Of course I’d like to pitch; there’s no use denying that, but I don’t want any fellow to give way for me if he’s making good.”“That’s the trouble—he isn’t,” put in Teeter.Hiram took a quick resolve. He could smooth matters over now, and later arrange them to suit himself and Luke. So he said:“All right, I admit that we didn’t make a very good showing to-day. But it was our first game, and Brown and Akers didn’t do very well in the box. But don’t be too hasty. Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” and he acted as though it was a big favor. “I’ll let you fellows have a voice when I make changes after this. We’ll do some harder practice. I’ll make Brown and Akers pitch better——”“I don’t believe he can,” murmured Tom.“We won’t make any more shifts—right away,” went on Hiram. “Maybe you...
“Fire!”
“Where are you fellows taking us?” demanded Joe, as they walked softly down the corridor.“Toot-Toot!” was all the answer he received.“Say, we don’t mind having fun,” added Tom, “but if you fellows are going to cut up any, we want to know it.”“Toot-Toot!” came again in imitation of a whistle. It was evident that this was a sort of signal or watchword among the members of the Order of Choo-Choo.“These aren’t Peaches, Teeter, and our fellows,” spoke Joe into Tom’s ear as they were forced to descend a back and seldom used staircase.“That’s right,” agreed Tom. “I wonder who they are?”“Some of the seniors, maybe,” suggested the young pitcher. “I wish I knew where they are taking us.”“The candidates who are about to be initiated into the Mystic and Sacred Order of the Choo-Choo will kindly keep quiet!” came the quick command from the leader. “Silence is imperative to have the spell work.”“Oh, you dry up!” retorted Joe.“Silence!” came the command again, emphasized this time by a dig in the ribs.“You quit——” began our hero, but his voice ended in a grunt, for some one had hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He was indignant, and had half a mind to make a fight for it then and there. But he was practically helpless, and was descending a flight of stairs which made it dangerous to chance a scuffle. He made up his mind to fight when the time came.“If you fellows——” began Tom.“Silence over there!” hissed one of the white-robed figures. “If they talk any more, Master of Ceremonies, gag ’em.”“Right, Chief Engineer,” was the hollow answer.Tom thought it best to keep quiet. Silently the little crowd advanced. They halted at the door of one of the many store-rooms in the basement of the largest of the school dormitories. One of the lads opened the portals with a key. It was as black as pitch beyond. “Enter, timid and shrinking candidates,” commanded some one. “Enter into the sacred precincts of the Choo-Choo.”“Not much I won’t!” declared Joe. “I can’t see my hand before my face, and I’m not going into a dark room, not knowing what is there.”“Me either!” declared Tom.“It is so ordered,” came the deep voice of the leader. “Enter or be thrown in!”Joe turned, trying in vain to pierce the disguise of the black mask. He struggled to free his arms...
A Thrilling Rescue
“What’s that?” asked half a dozen of the white-robed lads.“Fire, somewhere,” answered Hiram, pausing in his rush toward Joe.“Come on, this can wait,” added one of his companions. “We’re through with this initiation, anyhow.”“But I’m not through with him,” snapped the bully with a glance of anger at the young pitcher. “I’ll settle with him later.”“Fire! Fire!”Again the cries rang out on the night air.“The school must be on fire!” yelled Luke Fodick. “Come on, fellows!”“Fire! Fire!”Many voices now took up the cry outside, and through a partially-curtained window could be seen the dancing light of flames.“Come on!” cried Joe to Tom. “We’ve got to be in on this, whatever it is!”“Surest thing you know,” agreed his chum.They rushed from the room, following after Hiram and Luke. The others straggled out as fast as they disrobed, for they did not want to be seen in their regalia by any of the school authorities who might be on hand after the alarm of fire.“I hope it isn’t any of the school buildings!” exclaimed Joe as he and Tom raced along.“That’s right. So do I. Look, you can see the reflection from here.”The boys were opposite a window in the corridor, and over the roof and spire of the school chapel could be seen a lurid glare in the sky, but what was burning could not be made out.“It’s the gym!” gasped Tom.“Don’t you dare say that!” cried Joe, “and with the baseball season just starting.”“Well, it looks like it anyhow.”Together they raced on until they came to a door that gave egress to the campus. Students were pouring out from their rooms in all directions, some eagerly questioning, and others joining in the cries of “Fire!” No one seemed to know where the blaze was.Professor Rodd came out with his precious tall hat in one hand and a bundle of books in the other.“Is the school doomed, boys?” he asked. “How did it start? Have I time to save anything else? I have some Latin books——”“I don’t know where it is, Professor,” answered Joe. “But it isn’t this building, anyhow.”“Good! I’m glad of it. I mean I’m sorry it’s anywhere. Wait, and I’ll be with you to help fight the flames.”He ran back to his quarters to return quickly minus his silk hat and the books, and he wore an old fashioned night-cap.“There now, I’m ready,” he announced, and he ran...
The Warning
Joe hesitated a moment. Everything would depend on his one throw, because there was no chance to get another ball of cord, and if this one went wide it would fall into the fire and be rendered useless.The fire was increasing, for all the chemicals in the tank on the wagon had been used, and no fresh supply was available. Below the tower on which the man stood, the flames raged and crackled. Even the tower itself was ablaze a little and at times the smoke hid the man from view momentarily.“I’ll have to wait until it clears,” murmured the young pitcher, when, just as he got ready to throw, a swirl of vapor arose.“You can’t wait much longer,” said Tom, in an ominously quiet voice.“I know it,” agreed Joe desperately, and it was but too evident. The tower itself, weakened by the fire, would soon collapse, and would carry the man down with it into the seething fire below.“Throw! Throw!” urged several in the throng.Joe handed the loose end of the cord to Tom. He wanted to give all his attention to throwing the ball. He poised himself as if he was in the pitching box. It was like a situation in a game when his side needed to retire the other in order to win, as when two men were out, three on bases and the man at bat had two strikes and three balls. All depended on one throw.With a quick motion Joe drew back his arm. There was an intaking of breath on the part of the crowd that could be heard even above the crackling of the flames. All eyes were centered on the young pitcher.“He’ll never do it,” murmured Hiram Shell.“If he does he’s a better pitcher than I’ll ever be,” admitted Frank Brown.Suddenly Joe threw. The white ball was plainly visible as it sailed through the air, unwinding as it mounted upward. On and on it went, Joe, no less than every one in the crowd, watching it with eager eyes. And as for the man on the tower he eagerly stretched out his hands to catch the ball of cord, on which his life now depended.Straight and true it went, as swift and as direct a ball as Baseball Joe had ever delivered. Straight and true—on and on and then——Into the hands of the anxiously waiting man went the ball of cord....
Bad News
Attention was divided, on the part of the crowd, between the man who had been rescued, and the fire. The old factory was now burning fiercely and it was useless to try to save the structure. In fact, nearly everyone was glad that it had been destroyed, for it would harbor no more tramps. So the man who had been so thrillingly rescued was the greater attraction.Fortunately there was a doctor in the throng, and he gave Mr. Benjamin some stimulants which quickly brought him out of his faint. Then a carriage was secured, and the man was taken to the village hotel, Joe agreeing to be responsible for his board. Though Mr. Benjamin had treated Mr. Matson most unjustly, and had tried to ruin him, yet the son thought he could do no less than to give him some aid, especially after the warning.“Well, I guess it’s all over but the shouting, as they say at the baseball games,” remarked Tom to Joe. “Let’s get home. I’m cold,” for they had both been drenched over the upper part of their bodies by the initiation, and the night wind was cold, in spite of the fact that Spring was well advanced.“So am I,” admitted Joe, as he watched the carriage containing Mr. Benjamin drive off. “I’d like some good hot lemonade.”The fire now held little attraction for our friends and they hastened back to the dormitory, Joe explaining on the way how he had unexpectedly rescued a former enemy of his father’s.“And aren’t you going to send some word home about that warning he gave you?” asked Tom, as Joe finished. “That Holdney scoundrel may be working his scheme now.”“Oh, yes, sure. I’m going to write to dad as soon as we get back to our room. Sure I’m going to warn him. I’m mighty sorry for Mr. Benjamin. He’s a smart man, but he went wrong, and now he’s down and out, as he says. But he did me a good service.”“It doesn’t even things up!” spoke Teeter. “He surely would have been a gone one but for you.”“Oh, some one else might have thought of that way of getting him down if I hadn’t,” replied Joe modestly. “I remember a story I read in one of the books I had when I was a kid. A fellow was on a high chimney, and a rope he had used...
Bitter Defeat
Joe’s first act, after receiving the bad news from home, was to sit down and write his father a letter full of vain regrets, of self-accusation, upbraiding himself for having been so stupid as not to have thought of telegraphing. He hastened to post this, going out himself though barely over his cold.“I’m not going to take any more chances,” he remarked to Tom. “Maybe that other letter wasn’t mailed by the janitor, or it would have gotten to dad in time.”“Hardly,” remarked his chum. “Your father says the things were taken the night before your letter arrived, so you would have had to write the day before to have done any good. Only a telegram would have been of any use.”“I guess so,” admitted Joe sorrowfully. “I’m a chump!”“Oh, don’t worry any more,” advised his friend. “Let’s get at some baseball practice. The school has two games this week.” “Who with?” asked Joe.“Woodside Hall and the Lakeview Preps. We ought to win ’em both. They need you back on the scrub. The first nine has had it too easy.”“And I’ll be glad to get back,” replied the young pitcher earnestly. “It seems as if I hadn’t had a ball in my hands for a month.”Joe mailed his letter and then, as the day was just right to go out on the diamond, he and Tom hastened there, finding plenty of lads awaiting them. A five-inning game between the scrub and school teams was soon arranged.“Now boys, go in and clean ’em up!” exclaimed Luke, as his men went to bat, allowing the scrub the advantage of being last up. This was done to make the first team strive exceptionally hard to pile up runs early in the practice.“Don’t any of you fan out,” warned Hiram. “I’m watching you.”“And so am I,” added Dr. Rudden, the coach, as he strolled up. “You first team lads want to look to your laurels. You have plenty of games to play before the finals to decide the possession of the Blue Banner, but remember that every league game counts. Your percentage is rather low for the start of the season.”He was putting it mildly. The percentage of Excelsior Hall was exceedingly low.“Beat the scrub!” advised the coach-teacher.“They can’t do it with Joe in the box!” declared Tom; and Luke and Hiram sneered audibly. Their feeling against our two heroes had not improved since...
Hiram is Out
There was an ominous silence over the gathering in the gymnasium. It was entirely different from the former meeting which started in such a hub-bub, and which created such a stir. This time it meant “business,” as Peaches said.Hiram called the session, but refused to preside. He wanted to be able to say what he thought from the floor, and from the manner in which he and Luke and one or two of their friends conferred before the session opened, it was evident that Hiram was going to make a fight to maintain his prestige.“Come to order, young gentlemen,” suggested Dr. Rudden, when the gymnasium was well filled. It seemed as if every lad in Excelsior Hall was there. “You know what we are here for——”“To elect a new manager and captain!” shouted someone.“Stop!” commanded the coach, banging his gavel.“Who said that?” cried Hiram, springing to his feet. “If I find out——”“Silence!” commanded the chairman, while Luke pulled his crony to his seat.“This meeting will be conducted in a gentlemanly manner, or not at all,” went on the professor quietly; but the boys knew what he meant. “We are here to discuss the baseball situation, and try to decide on some plan for bettering the team. I will hear suggestions.”“I just want to say one thing,” began Hiram. “I have managed this team for three seasons, and——”“Mis-managed it,” murmured someone.“Why didn’t we get the Blue Banner?” asked another voice.“Young gentlemen, you will have to keep from making side remarks, and interrupting the speakers,” said Dr. Rudden. “Go on, Shell.”“I never had any kicking on my management before,” continued Hiram, glaring at those around him. “I can manage it all right now, and it’s only some soreheads——”“Rather unparliamentary language,” the chairman warned him.“If we had a few good players we could win every game,” went on the bully. “But the season is young yet, and——”“I don’t think that is a valid excuse,” said the professor. “You had your choice of the whole school in picking the nine, so it is the fault of yourself and the captain if you haven’t a good team. As for the earliness of the season, the boys have had plenty of practice and they ought to have struck their gait before this. I’m afraid something else is to blame.”“We need better pitchers for one thing!” called someone.“That’s right!” yelled a double score of voices, and Dr....
Two of a Kind
“There is another resignation to act on,” said Dr. Rudden, after a pause, and, somehow he did not seem half as worried over it as Luke had hoped he would be. “What shall we do with it?”“Take it!” exclaimed Tom, and it was accepted with a promptness that startled the former captain.“The action taken to-night makes it necessary to elect a new manager and a captain,” went on the professor. “Perhaps the manager should be elected first. Whom will you have?”“Peaches Lantfeld,” called some.“Teeter Nelson,” said others.“George Bland! Sister Davis! Ward Gerard! Tommy Barton,” called various lads. There were more nominations, but Peaches received the majority of votes, and was declared elected. Teeter was the first to congratulate him, and the others followed.“Now a captain,” suggested the chairman. “Joe Matson!” yelled scores of voices.“No, I can’t accept,” cried Joe, jumping to his feet. “If I’m going to pitch I want to give all my time to that. I’m much obliged, but I decline.”“I think it would not be wise to make your pitcher the captain, especially at this time,” spoke Dr. Rudden. “The catcher is in a better position to captain a team, for he can see all the plays. You will have to have a new catcher, and——”“Ward Gerard!” called Joe. “He’s caught for me on the scrub, and——”“Ward! Ward Gerard!” Scores of lads took up the calling of his name. He was very popular, and was elected in a minute, while Hiram and Luke, followed by Jake Weston, filed from the room in plainly-shown disgust, sneers on their faces.Nothing more remained to do save to have a conference of the new captain and manager, to arrange for future practice and playing. This was soon done, and Ward told the lads to report early the next Monday afternoon, when they would play the scrub, which organization had also to select a new captain and pitcher, as well as catcher.“Now, all I want is to get Tom Davis on the school nine, and I’ll be happy,” said Joe to Peaches and Teeter, as the meeting broke up.“I think you can,” declared Teeter. “Jake Weston is going to get out, I hear, and Tom will fit in. Charlie Borden can take Jake’s place at short and Tom can play first, which he’s used to. Oh, I guess old Excelsior Hall has come into her own again, and we’ll make some of...
By a Close Margin
“Whew!” whistled Captain Elmer Dalton of the Morningside nine, as he greeted some of the lads against whom his team was to play, “you fellows have been making a lot of changes, haven’t you?” and he looked at the several new members of the school team, including Joe and Tom.“Yes, a bit of house cleaning,” replied Ward Gerard. “I am captain now. Hiram and Luke got out.”“Yes, I heard there was some sort of a row.”“Oh, I suppose it’s all over the league by this time,” put in Peaches. “But it couldn’t be helped. It was like a dose of bitter medicine, but we took it, and I think it’s going to do us good.”“You mean we’re going to do you good,” laughed Elmer. “We’re going to trim you again to-day.”“Not much!” cried Ward. “We’ll win. Come now, a little wager between you and me—for the sodas, say.”“You’re on!” agreed Elmer. “Where’s your batting list?”The two captains walked over to the scoring bench to arrange the details of the game. The two teams were made up as follows, this being the batting order:EXCELSIOR—George Blandcentre fieldDick Lantfeldleft fieldHarry Nelsonsecond baseNat Piersonthird baseTom Davisfirst baseCharles BordenshortstopHarry Lauterright fieldJoe MatsonpitcherWard GerardcatcherMORNINGSIDE—Dunlap Spurrcentre fieldWill LeeshortstopWilson Carlburgleft fieldTed ClaypitcherWallace DouglasscatcherElmer Daltonfirst baseWalker Bromleythird baseLoftus Brownsecond baseHarry Youngright fieldThe Excelsiors were to bat last, and while the rival crowds of school boys were singing, cheering and giving their class yells, Joe Matson walked to the box for the second time as pitcher on the school nine in a big school league game. No wonder he felt a trifle nervous, but he did not show it, not even when some one yelled:“Look at the new pitcher they’ve got! We’ll get his number all right.”“Yes, we’ll have his goat in about a minute!” added another Morningside partizan.“Go as far as you like,” answered Joe with a smile.“Play ball!” yelled the umpire, and Joe faced the first batter, Dunlap Spurr, who had the reputation of being a heavy hitter. Ward signalled for a low one, for he knew that Dunlap had a tendency to hit over such a ball. Joe nodded his head to show that he understood, and the next moment the horsehide went speeding toward the plate.The batter swung viciously at it but—missed. He had gone half a foot over it.“Strike!” cried the umpire.“Make him give you a pretty one!” called Elmer. “He will if you wait.”“He...
The Overturned Statue
“Three cheers for the Excelsiors!” cried the visiting captain, swinging his hat around in the air as a signal to his crowd, after the excitement had somewhat calmed. “Three good cheers, boys! They beat us fair and square! Three big cheers!”And how they rang out! And how also rang out the return cheers, which Joe and his mates rendered. Never had applause sounded sweeter in the ears of our hero, for it seemed that the school nine had now begun to live in better days, since the dismissal of Hiram and Luke.Joe kept at his pitching practice, and he himself knew, even had others, including Tom, not told him, that he was doing well.“You’re better than when you pitched for the Silver Stars,” said Tom, “and you were no slouch then.”“Yes, I think I am more sure of myself,” admitted Joe. “And I’ve got more speed and better curves.” It was natural that he should have. He was growing taller and stronger that Summer, and he had most excellent practice. He had not given up the idea of becoming a professional pitcher, and everything he could do tended that way for him.He had heard nothing more definite from home, but Mr. Matson said he was still trying to trace the stolen models and papers.“I’ll help you when vacation time comes,” said Joe in a letter. “But I’m playing ball for all I’m worth now.”“Keep at it,” his father wrote back.There were many games played that season by Excelsior Hall—many more than the previous Summer—for Spring had now given place to warm weather. The school term was drawing to a close, but there were still many more games to play in the league series.In succession Excelsior met and defeated Trinity, the Lakeview Preps. and Woodside Hall. She was near the top of the list now, though Morningside was quite a way in advance. It looked as if eventually there would be a tie for first place between the old rivals—a tie for the possession of the Blue Banner, and if there was it meant a great final game. Joe looked forward to it with mingled fear and hope.“How I hate him!” exclaimed Hiram to his crony, Luke, one day after a close game, when Joe’s pitching had won again for Excelsior. “I wish I could get him out of the school, or off the nine, or something.”“Why don’t you? I thought...
On Probation
Joe did not get to chapel that morning. He was all ready to go with Tom and the others after making a hasty toilet, when a messenger came to the door.“Dr. Fillmore wants to see you in his office, Joe,” said the messenger—a nice lad who did this work to help pay for his tuition.“Wants to see me—what for?” demanded our hero. “Are you sure that’s right, Georgie?”“Sure, and a teacher’s there with him. I’m not sure but I think it’s something about the overthrown statue. I heard them mention it as they called me to go for you.”“The overturned statue? I don’t know anything about it!” exclaimed Joe. “I only just this moment saw it—from my window.”“Well, the doctor wants you, anyhow,” repeated the messenger lad. “You’d better go.”“Oh, sure,” assented Joe, and he started for the doctor’s study with wonder in his heart and a puzzled and rather an ominous look on his face. His companions regarded him seriously.“What do you s’pose is in the wind?” asked Peaches.“Give it up,” remarked Teeter. “Are you on, Tom?”“Nary a bit. First I knew of it was when you fellows came and told me.”“Was Joe out last night?” asked Peaches.“That’s so, he did go into town,” replied Tom. “He left a note to tell me—but that was all straight—he had permission. It can’t be that.”“Well, we’ll hear in chapel,” said Teeter.“Ah, it’s you is it, Matson?” asked the doctor, as our hero entered the study. There was a curious note in the master’s voice, and he glanced narrowly at Joe. “Come in. I am sorry to have to summon you on such an unpleasant and important matter, but I have no choice. As you probably know, the Founder’s Statue was overturned last night.”He looked questioningly at Joe.“I just saw it from my window,” was the simple answer.“It was done last night,” went on the doctor with a look at a teacher who acted as proctor. “It was a disgraceful, vile piece of vandalism. The guilty one will be severely punished. Doubtless you are wondering why we sent for you. It was on account of this, which was picked up by one of the janitors in front of the statue, when he discovered its fallen position this morning.”Dr. Fillmore held out to Joe the telegram our hero had received from his father the night previous!“Is this yours?” asked the doctor.“Ye—yes, it came...
Luke’s Confession
The anticipation of Teeter, Peaches and the others that there would be a sensation in chapel that morning was borne out. Never, in all their experience, had the boys recalled Dr. Fillmore being more bitter in his denunciation of what he characterized as “sensational vandalism.”He liked boys to have good, clean healthy fun, he said, and an occasional prank was not out of order, but this pulling the statue from its base passed all bounds. More and more bitter the good doctor became. Perhaps part of his feeling was due to the fact that the Founder had written a book on Cæsar that the head of the school considered an authority, and you remember how fond Dr. Fillmore was of the writer of the “Commentaries.”The boys looked at each other as the denunciation proceeded, and there were whispers of:“Who did it? Why doesn’t he name some one?”The doctor came to that part in a moment.“We are unable to say who perpetrated this act of sensational vandalism,” he went on, “but I may say that once the students are discovered they will be instantly dismissed from Excelsior Hall—this is no place for them. I say we do not know who did it, but we have reason to suspect——”Here the good doctor paused and there was an uneasy movement among several lads.“We have reason to suspect that some one knows who did it, but will not tell. I am sorry to say that we have been obliged to inflict the usual punishment on this—ahem—student and he is now on probation. The usual exercises will now be held.”They went on, but it is doubtful if the lads were in a very devotional spirit. Joe’s absence was at once noted, and of course it was guessed why he was not there, though being on probation did not bar one from chapel or classes.“By Jove!” exclaimed Tom, when they were on their way to first lectures. “It’s Joe! Who’d ever dream it?”“So that’s why he was wanted in the office,” added Peaches.“I don’t believe he had a thing to do with it!” declared Teeter vehemently.“Of course not!” chorused the other two.“But they evidently think he does,” went on Tom. “Here he comes now; let’s ask him.”“Say, what does it all mean anyhow?” inquired Teeter when he had warmly clasped Joe’s hand.The young pitcher told of the finding of the telegram, and its result.“But, hang it...
A Glorious Victory
It was the morning of the day of the big game—the final contest between Morningside and Excelsior for the possession of the Blue Banner. So far the two nines were tied as regards their percentage of victories, and the banner would go to whoever won the diamond battle on this occasion.Dr. Fillmore, after hearing Luke’s confession, had sent a messenger to Joe’s room with instructions to see if our hero and Tom were asleep. The apartment was in darkness and quiet reigned when the messenger listened, so he reported that both lads were slumbering. But he was not altogether right, for Joe tossed restlessly on his pillow and thought bitterly of the morrow.“Well, as long as he is asleep,” remarked the good doctor to the coach whom he had summoned, “we won’t tell him the good news until to-morrow. He’ll need his rest if he is to pitch against Morningside.”“Then you’re going to remove the probation ban, Dr. Fillmore?” asked Dr. Rudden eagerly.“Of course. I shall make the announcement at chapel, and wish Matson and the others of the nine all success.”“And you don’t yet know who pulled down the statue?”“No. It was manly of Fodick to confess, and though I shall have to suspend him, of course, I didn’t even ask him to inform on the guilty ones. I really couldn’t, you know.”“No, I suppose not. But I’m glad Joe is going to play. I think we shall win.”“I hope so,” murmured Dr. Fillmore.The surprise and gratification of the students may easily be surmised when the next morning at chapel, Dr. Fillmore made his announcement, stating that Joe had been on probation under a misapprehension, and that now the ban was removed he could play ball.“And I hope that he and the others of the nine play their very best,” concluded the head of the school, “and win!”There was a spontaneous cheer, and neither the doctor nor any of the teachers took the trouble to stop it. Joe’s face was burning red, his heart was thumping like a trip hammer, but he was the happiest lad in school.“Oh, it’s great! Glorious! I can’t talk! Whoop!” yelled Teeter, once out of chapel, as he balanced himself on his toes.“Say, old man, it’s too good to be true!” cried Peaches, yelling and capering about until his usually fair complexion was like that of a beet.“We’ll make Morningside look like thirty cents!”...
Good News—Conclusion
There were the usual cheers first by the victors and then by the vanquished, and it would be hard to say which were the heartiest. For Morningside was a good loser and next to a well-beaten rival, she loved a staunch victorious one.“You fellows certainly did us up good and proper—the worst beating we ever got,” admitted Captain Dalton to Ward.“That’s what we came here for,” was the reply. “It was Joe’s twirling that did it.”“Get out!” cried the modest pitcher.“Yes, that certainly held us down,” went on Dalton. “We couldn’t seem to find you. I’ll need some new pitchers next season, I guess, for you certainly batted Ted and Sam all over. But I’m not kicking. How are you fixed for next year, Joe? Don’t you want to come to Morningside?” and he laughed.“I don’t know,” answered our hero. “I haven’t quite made up my mind what I shall do. I’m going to play ball, I know that much, anyhow.”“I should think you would—any fellow who can twirl the horsehide as you can. Well, might as well get off these togs,” spoke Dalton. “I won’t need ’em here any more this season, though I’m going to join some amateur team for the vacation if I can.”The cheering and yelling kept up for some time; and then with the glorious Blue Banner, that meant so much to them in their possession, the Excelsior Hall lads started back for the school.“So you don’t know what you are going to do next season, eh, Joe?” asked Tom, as he and his chum were riding back. “I thought you’d stick on here.”“Well, I’d like to, first rate but I don’t know how dad’s business is going to be since this second robbery. I may have to leave school.”“Oh, I hope not. So they haven’t any trace of the missing papers and models?”“Not according to what I last heard. I’m going to get on the trail of that scamp, Holdney, this vacation, though.”As might have been guessed, there was a big banquet for the baseball team that night. And such a spread as it was, held in the big gymnasium. Every player came in for his share of praise, and there was so much of it for Joe; and his health was drunk in soda and ginger ale so often that his complexion was like that of Peaches’—red and white by turns. But nearly...
