Chapter XXXIII: The Championship Game

From grand stands and bleachers came cheers, yells, songs and cries of many kinds. There was a record-breaking crowd, every seat seeming to be filled when the two nines, in their natty uniforms, began their warming-up work. In the bleachers were many townspeople, both Randall and Boxer Hall adherents. It seemed as if the unprotected seats, shimmering in the hot sun, were composed of mats of straw hats, with colored bands for ornaments.

In the grand stands there was a conglomeration of many colors, formed by the hats of girls, and the gay banners they carried, the yellow and maroon of Randall mingling with the red and green of Boxer Hall, a combination lately adopted.

"Great crowd," commented Phil to Tom.

"Yes. But say, look at Langridge send 'em in!" for the rival pitcher was warming-up with Stoddard, his catcher.

"Ruth and Madge are here," went on Phil.

"Are they? I wonder if Miss Harrison will come?"

"Guess so. S'pose Sid will be on hand?"

"I doubt it. But come on, let's have a talk with Leighton and Kerr. They may want to say something."

The practice went on, the usual conferences took place between captain and captain, manager and manager. Boxer Hall, as the home team, had the privilege of batting last. Batting orders were submitted for inspection, and the umpire took several new balls from his valise, and stripped from them the foil covering. With the exception of Pete Backus in place of Sid, the Randall team was the same that had played the 'varsity games all season, though the batting order was different, Holly Cross leading off, he having improved greatly in stick work. There was no change in the Boxer team, from when she had last played Tom's men.

The gong rang sharply. The buzzing talk and laughter on the grand stands ceased, as the umpire announced the batteries. There was a moment of consultation among the two nines, and then Stoddard, who was Boxer's captain that year, motioned to his players to take the field. He donned his mask and protector, and adjusted his big glove. Langridge, with a cynical smile on his face, walked to the pitcher's box. He threw four preliminary balls to Stoddard, who then signified that he was ready.

"Play ball!" called the umpire, and Holly Cross stepped up to the plate.

Langridge "wound up" and sent in a swift one. Holly did not offer to strike at it.

"Strike wan!" howled the umpire, who was a bit Irish, throwing one arm up in the air. There was an indrawing of breath on the part of the Randall players.

"It was a mile outside," complained Tom.

"Hush!" cautioned Mr. Leighton.

Holly struck at the next one, and missed. The following was a foul, and this gave his friends some encouragement.

"Lambaste the next one!" yelled Bean Perkins from amid his throng of singers and shouters. But Holly struck out. Nor did any better luck attend Dan Woodhouse, who fanned. There was a wicked look in the eyes of Bricktop, as he walked to the plate, and perhaps for that reason Langridge walked him. He seemed to know he would have "easy fruit" in Pete Backus, who was taking Sid's place, and he did, for he easily struck him out, and Bricktop died on second, which he had stolen. No runs for Randall that inning.

It was not without a nervous tremor that Tom walked to the box, to see what he could do against Boxer. He wondered how his hand was going to stand the strain, though it seemed to have healed perfectly.

After exchanging the regulation number of practice balls with Dutch Housenlager, Tom was ready for Ralling, who was first up at the bat for Boxer Hall.

Dutch signalled for a puzzling drop, and Tom delivered it, but Ralling took a quick step forward, and, before the curve "broke" he got his bat on it, and sent a pretty single just over Bricktop's head, though the plucky shortstop leaped high to get it. Ralling was safe on first.

McGherity fanned twice, but the third time he, too, found the ball, and rapped out a two bagger, bringing in Ralling, who had managed to steal to second, though Tom tried desperately to throw him out. Roy Conklin was up next, and struck out, and then came Arthur Flood's turn. How it happened Tom couldn't tell, but the ball twisted in his hands, and instead of an out curve it went over the plate straight, and at slow speed.

Flood hit it a mighty "poke" and away the horsehide spheroid sailed, well over the head of Holly Cross in center field. But Holly pluckily raced after it, and, though McGherity came in with a run, Flood found it expedient to linger on third. By this time all Boxer Hall was in a frenzy of delight, for they were two runs to the good, and only one out. But there were two, a moment later, for Flood, taking chances, was caught napping on the third bag, and put out by a quick throw. George Stoddard fanned, and that ended the inning, with the score 2 to 0, in favor of Boxer Hall.

Randall could not score in the next inning though Tom knocked a two bagger. He stole third, and then had to stay there and watch the Jackson twins and Dutch Housenlager ingloriously fan the air. It was bitterness as of gall and wormwood, but Tom tried not to show it, as he took his place in the box for the ending of the second inning.

Things looked a little brighter when Pinkey Davenport laid down a little bingle, almost in front of Tom, who tossed it to Phil, on first, and there was one down, with scarcely an effort. Then Langridge sent a neat little fly to Pete, on second base, and Bert Hutchin fanned, making three out in such quick succession that the wild cheering of Boxer Hall was checked, and Bean Perkins and his cohorts had a chance to let loose.

"Now, Randall, do 'em up! Wallop 'em!" shouted a tall dignified man, accompanied by two pretty girls who sat well down in front on the center grand stand. "Eat 'em alive! Eat 'em alive!"

"Oh, papa!" cried one pretty girl, clasping his left arm.

"Oh, papa!" exclaimed the other pretty girl, seizing his right arm.

"That's all right, my dears," he answered. "Don't you suppose I want to see my old college win? And they will, too! Those boys have grit!"

"Yes, but they're short one of their best players," said a man next to the "old grad," and he told about Sid, for that was common knowledge now.

A goose egg went up in the Boxer frame that inning, and Tom looked happier. But, try as his men did in their share of the third, nothing resulted, though Woodhouse laid out a pretty liner, which was caught, after a run, by Sam Burton. Then came the heart-breaking last of the third, when three runs were added to Boxer's score.

"Go on back home!" yelled some Boxer enthusiast at the Randall team. "You can't play ball! Go back!"

"Not until we have your scalps!" declared Bean Perkins vindictively.

Seated together on the middle grand stand, Madge Tyler, Mabel Harrison and Ruth Clinton looked at each other.

"Looks pretty bad, doesn't it, Ruth?" asked Madge.

"Don't talk," said Ruth in a low voice, as she saw her brother's team coming in. "I'm--I'm just _praying_ for them, Madge."

A ray of light came to Randall in this inning for, though Pete Backus struck out, Tom laid down a pretty two bagger and came home on what was intended as a sacrifice hit by Joe Jackson, only it was fumbled and Joe got to first. Then Jerry fanned and Dutch got out on an almost impossible foul that Stoddard grabbed, banging up against the grand stand to do it.

"One to five," remarked Tom musingly, as he went to his box, for the ending of the fourth. "Well, we can't be whitewashed, anyhow, but I guess it's all up with us."

It seemed so, for in that inning Boxer added two runs to her credit, even if again Tom did strike out Langridge. The score was 7 to 1 against Randall now. In the fifth inning Tom's side gathered in one run, Phil making it on a sacrifice by Holly Cross, and Boxer further sweetened her score by another tally. In the beginning of the sixth Randall had the joy of seeing another single mark go up in her frame.

"We've got three runs," Tom remarked to Phil, as he went to his box. "One more in each inning will look pretty, but it will hardly do the work," and he spoke bitterly.

"Hard luck, old man, but maybe it will turn," came from Phil.

But, alas for hopes! Many things happened in the last half of the sixth, and when they were done occurring there were four runs chalked up for Boxer. Tom rather lost control of himself, and had walked two men, while there was ragged field work to account for the rest of the disaster. And now the score stood 12 to 3 in favor of Boxer Hall. It seemed like a farce, and even Boxer Hall was tired of cheering herself. Tom saw the championship slipping away after all his hard work. Even Bricktop Molloy, usually cheerful in the face of heavy odds, did not smile, and Mr. Leighton looked gloomy.

"Well, let the slaughter go on," remarked Tom, as he came in with his men, to see what the seventh inning held in store for them.

"I guess you'd better let Evert pitch the rest of the game, Mr. Leighton," said Tom, as he sat down on the bench beside the coach. "He can't do any worse than I've done."

"Nonsense! Things may take a turn even yet, though I admit they look rather bad for us. I hope----"

But Mr. Leighton did not finish. There seemed to be some dispute with the man on guard at the players' gate.

"No, you can't go in," said the official. "How do I know you are a member of the Randall team?"

"Why, of course I am!" cried a voice, and, at the sound of it, Tom looked up quickly.

"Sid Henderson!" exclaimed the captain.

"Oh, Tom! Tom!" cried Sid. "Am I in time?" and he pushed past the gate tender.

"In time? Yes, to see us walloped," answered the captain bitterly.

"In time? What do you mean?" and Mr. Leighton caught at a strange note in Sid's voice.

"To play the game!"

"Play the game?" Tom had leaped to his feet.

"Yes. It's all right. Here's a note from Dr. Churchill. The ban is removed. I can play--I can play!"

Tom ran over, and threw his arms around Sid. The game came to a sudden stop. The note was examined. Mr. Leighton told the umpire to make the announcement that Sid Henderson would bat for Pete Backus that inning, and take his place in the game after that.

"I protest!" cried Langridge, coming up with an ugly look on his face.

There was a conference of the officials, but in the end they had to admit that Sid was eligible, and the game started again. But with what a different feeling among the Randall players! It was as if new life had been infused into them. Bean Perkins started the song, "We're Going to Wallop 'em Now!" and it was roared out from several hundred lusty throats.

Nor was it unjustified; for with a grim viciousness, after Holly Cross had struck out, Dan Woodhouse rapped out a three bagger the moment he came up to the bat, and Bricktop followed with a two-sack ball, bringing in Kindlings, while Sid, with a happy look on his face, looked grimly at Langridge, as if telling him to do his worst. The stands were still trembling under the stamping that had followed Dan's arrival home with a run, and when Sid swung at the ball, and duplicated Dan's trick, bringing in Bricktop, there was a wild riot of yells. They were kept up even when Tom sacrificed to bring Sid home, and then Joe Jackson got to first on a fly that McGherity muffed. Jerry, by hitting out a pretty liner, enabled his brother to get to third, while Jerry was held on first. Up came Dutch and he clouted the ball to such good purpose that he got to third, and the Jersey twins scored. Then poor Dutch died on third for Phil fanned out. But nothing could dampen the enthusiasm of the Randallites then, for they had secured five runs, and the score stood only 12 to 8 against them now.

"Oh, we can catch up!" yelled Bean Perkins. "Now for the 'Conquer or Die' song, fellows," and the strangely beautiful and solemn strains of the Latin melody floated over the field.

Tom's men began to play like fiends. They seemed to be all over the field, and, though Tom was hit for a single, not another man got to first.

"Oh, if we can only hold 'em down, and bring in a few more runs we've got 'em!" panted Tom, as he came to the bench in the beginning of the eighth, and sat down beside Sid. "But say, old man, how did it happen that the doctor let you play at the last minute?" he asked, while the others waited for Sid's answer.

"I'll tell you later," the second baseman promised. "Gee, but I had a time getting here! Trolley wasn't running, and I had to come by train. Thought I'd have a long walk, but I met a fellow in an auto and he gave me a lift. Then, just as I got here I heard that the trolleys started running about five minutes after I left the stalled car. But, Tom, are we going to win?"

"We sure are," declared the captain, clapping Sid on the back.