The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseball Read online

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  THE GAME WON--PHIL, AMID A RIOT OF CHEERS, KEPT ON TOSECOND]

  THE RIVAL PITCHERS A Story of College Baseball

  BY LESTER CHADWICK

  AUTHOR OF "A QUARTER-BACK'S PLUCK," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED

  NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK

  THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES

  12mo. Illustrated

  THE RIVAL PITCHERS A Story of College Baseball

  A QUARTER-BACK'S PLUCK A Story of College Football

  (Other volumes in preparation)

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY NEW YORK

  Copyright, 1910, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  THE RIVAL PITCHERS

  Printed in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I THE OLD BELL CLAPPER 1 II A GOOD THROW 19 III A BASEBALL MEETING 27 IV THE HAZING 42 V A SCRUB GAME 51 VI THE POLE RUSH 62 VII TOM HOLDS HIS OWN 69 VIII AT PRACTICE 77 IX A GAME WITH BOXER HALL 86 X A COIL OF WIRE 93 XI AN ELECTRIC SHOCK 104 XII TOM DOESN'T TELL 112 XIII A GIRL AND A GAME 120 XIV TOM'S CURVES 132 XV A SOPHOMORE TRICK 139 XVI TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY 147 XVII AN EXPOSTULATION 152 XVIII SOME "OLD GRADS" 160 XIX TOM IN COLD WATER 168 XX A GAME OF ANOTHER SORT 176 XXI ON THE GRILL 185 XXII DARK DAYS 192 XXIII AT THE DANCE 200 XXIV DRESS SUITS COME HIGH 208 XXV TOM IN A GAME 216 XXVI THE FRESHMAN DINNER 227 XXVII TOM IS KIDNAPPED 234 XXVIII THE ESCAPE 240 XXIX ANTICIPATIONS 247 XXX A GREAT GAME 255 XXXI LANGRIDGE APPEALS 272 XXXII THE FINAL CONTEST 281 XXXIII VICTORY 293

  THE RIVAL PITCHERS

  CHAPTER I

  THE OLD BELL CLAPPER

  Down the green campus they strolled, a motley group of sturdy freshmen,talking excitedly. In their midst was a tall, good-looking lad, whoseemed to be the center of discussion. Yet, in spite of the fact thatthe others appeared to be deferring something to him, he regarded themwith rather an amused and cynical smile on his face. He paused to brushan invisible bit of dust from his well-fitting clothes.

  "Well, aren't we going to make a try for it to-night?" asked one youth,whose hat was decorated with a silk band, yellow and maroon in color."My uncle, who used to be a football coach here, says the freshmenalways used to get it the first week of the term. My uncle----"

  "Oh, let up about your uncle, Fenton!" exclaimed the lad on whose wordthe others seemed to depend a great deal. "I've heard nothing but youruncle, your uncle, ever since you came here. Give us something new."

  "That's all right, Fred Langridge, but my uncle----"

  "There you go again!" interrupted Fred. "I guess I know what the customis, as well as your uncle. He hasn't been here in fifteen years."

  "I know that, but he says----"

  "Say, if you speak uncle again, I'll land you one on the jaw, andthat'll keep you quiet for a while." The words, in spite of theiraggressiveness, were good-natured enough, and were spoken with a smile.Ford Fenton, who seldom took part in any conversation about collegesports or frolics without mentioning his relative, who had been awell-known coach at Randall, looked first surprised, then hurt, butas he saw that the sympathies of his companion freshmen were withLangridge, he concluded to make the best of it.

  "I guess I know what the customs are here," repeated the well-dressedlad. "Didn't I get turned down at the exams, and ain't I putting in mysecond year as freshman? I helped get the clapper last year, and I'llhelp again this term. But I know one thing, Fenton, and that's not two."

  "What's that?" eagerly asked the youth who had boasted of his uncle.

  "That's this: You may not get the clapper, but you'll get somethingelse."

  "Why, what's the matter?"

  For answer Langridge silently pointed to the gay hatband of the other.

  "Take it off--take it off," he said. "Don't you know it's against thesacred customs of Randall College for a freshman to wear the colors onhis hat until after the flagpole rush? Don't you know it, I ask?"

  "Yes, I heard something about it."

  "Better strip it off, then," went on Langridge. "Here come Morse andDenfield, a couple of scrappy sophs. They'll have it off you before youcan say 'all Gaul is divided into three parts,' which you slumped on inLatin to-day."

  Fenton looked up, and saw approaching the group of freshmen whichincluded himself, two tall lads, who walked along with the swagger thatbetokened their second year at college. The hand of Fenton went to hishat, to take off the offending band, but he was too late. The sophomoreshad seen it. They turned quickly and strode over to the group of firstyears.

  "Would you look at that, Morse!" called Denfield in simulated wrath.

  "I should say so," came the answer. "The nerve of him! Hi, fresh, whatare you doing with that hatband?"

  Then Fenton did something totally opposed to the spirit of RandallCollege. He, a freshman, dared to talk back to a sophomore.

  "I'm wearing it," replied he pertly. "Does it look as if I was playingping-pong with it?"

  The sophomores could hardly believe their ears. There was no imitationin the surprise that showed on their faces.

  "For the love of Mike! Listen to him!" gasped Morse. "Grab him, Denfield!Wow! But things are coming to a pretty pass when a fresh talks like thatthe first week. Look out now, youngster, you're going to get a littlelesson in how to behave to your betters."

  The two sophomores reached out their hands to grab Fenton. He made aspring to get behind a protecting wall of his comrades, and for a momentit looked as if the second year lads would be bested, for there were atleast fifteen freshmen. But Langridge knew better than to let hisfriends get into trouble that way.

  "Let 'em have him," he advised in a low voice. "It's the custom, and heknew it. He deserves it all."

  Thereupon the freshmen divided, and offered no opposition to the twain,who gathered in their man. Morse snatched off the hat with the offendingband, and, while Denfield held the struggling Fenton, ripped off theribbon. Then with his knife Morse began cutting the hat to pieces.

  "Here, quit that!" yelled Fenton. "That's a new hat!"

  "Softly, softly, little one," counseled Denfield. "I pray thee speaksoftly."

  Though Fenton struggled to escape, the other easily held him, and thefreshman was forced to witness the destruction of his nice, new softhat. Having thus, as he believed, wiped out the insult offered, Morsecarefully folded the ribbon and placed it in his pocket.

  "Maybe you'll get a chance to wear it--after the pole rush," he saidcalmly. "I don't believe you will, for we're going to wipe up the groundwith you freshmen this term. But if you do, I'll give you back yourribbon--er--what's your name, freshman?"

  "Fenton," answered the humiliated one.

  "Fenton what?"

  "Ford Fenton."

  "Say 'Fenton, sir,'" counseled Langridge in the other's ear.

  "Don't you know how to reply to a gentleman?" asked Denfield fiercely,shaking Fenton from a neckhold he had. "Say sir, when you speak to asoph."

  "Sir!" cried Fent
on, for the grip hurt him.

  "That's better. Now remember, no more ribbons until after the pole rush,and maybe not then. This to all you freshies," added Morse.

  "Oh, we know that," put in Langridge. "But we'll all be wearing themafter next week, and we'll be wearing something else, too."

  "Nixy on the clapper, old chap!" called Denfield. "We won't stand forthat."

  "We'll see," responded Langridge. "All is not gold that doesn't come outin the wash."

  "Ha! He speaks in parables!" cried Morse. "Well done, old chap! But comeon, Denfield. I've got a date."

  The youth holding Fenton gave him a sudden turn and twist that sent himspinning to the ground, and as he picked himself up the two sophomoreswalked off, as dignified as senators.

  "Confound them!" muttered Fenton as he brushed the dust off his clothes."I've a good mind to----"

  "Easy, now," advised Langridge. "They're sophs, you know. Go easy!"

  "But that's no reason why we should let them walk all over us!" exclaimeda sturdy lad, who had watched, with rising anger, the attack on Fenton."I don't see why a crowd of us fellows should take whatever mean thingsthey want to inflict."

  "That's all right, Clinton," declared Langridge. "It's college custom,just the same as it is for us to take the clapper out of the chapelbell, have it melted up, and cast into watch charms. It's collegecustom, that's all."

  "That's all right, it may be; but I like to see a fair fight!" went onPhil Clinton. "I could have tackled Morse alone, and he's bigger than Iam."

  "Maybe you could, but you'd have the whole sophomore class down on us ifyou did, and you know what that means. No, let it go. Fenton brought iton himself by wearing the band."

  "I wish they'd tackled me," murmured the sturdy Clinton.

  "I wish they had," echoed Fenton. "Look at my hat."

  "That's all right, my uncle says I can have a new one!" piped up ashrill voice, in imitation of Fenton's usual tones.

  "Holly Cross, or I'm a Dutchman!" exclaimed Langridge, turning quicklyto glance at a newcomer, who had joined the ranks of the freshmen."Where've you been, Holly?"

  "Down by the boathouse, watching the crew practice. I'll give you animitation of Billy Housenlager pulling," and Holly, or Holman, Cross,began a pretense of rowing in grotesque style.

  "That's Dutch all over," admitted Langridge. "He goes at it like a houseand lot."

  "What's up?" demanded Holly, for he had seen from afar the littlerumpus. "Has 'my uncle' been cutting up?" and he winked at Fenton.

  "That's all right," began the aggrieved one, who did not seem to knowwhen he was being made fun of. "Look at my hat," and he held up thefelt article, which was in tatters.

  "New style," commented Holly casually. "Good for hot weather. Fine for asouvenir. Hand it around and we'll all put our initials on it, and youcan hang it in your room. But say, is there anything doing?"

  "There may be, to-night," answered Langridge.

  "So--so?" asked Holly with a wink, the while he pretended to ring animaginary bell.

  "Keep it mum," was Langridge's answer. "You fellows want to meet at theboathouse to-night," he went on, as if giving orders. "Don't forget whatI told you, and don't walk as if you had new shoes on. Take it easy. Bethere at eight o'clock. Come along, Holly. I want to talk to you."

  Langridge linked his arm in that of the newcomer, and the two strolledoff to one side of the college campus, while the group of freshmen madetheir way toward one of the two large dormitory buildings.

  "He orders us around as if we were working for him," objected PhilClinton. "Langridge takes too much for granted."

  "Well, he's been here a year, and I s'pose he feels like a soph,"remarked Sid Henderson.

  "Maybe, but that doesn't make him one. He thinks because he's got plentyof money, and comes from Chicago, that he can run things here, but he'snot going to run me," and Phil stuck out his square, well-formed jaw ina manner that betokened trouble.

  "Aren't you going to help get----" began Ed Kerr, who was quite a chumof Langridge.

  "Easy!" cautioned Sid. "Here are some sophs."

  A group of second-year students passed the freshmen with suspiciousglances, but, seeing no offending colors, nor any other evidences ofanything that could be taken to mean that their traditional prey hadviolated any rules, they saw nothing objectionable.

  "Don't mention clapper," went on Sid.

  "That's right," agreed Ed Kerr. "But I was going to say that Fred knowsthe ropes better than we do. If we stick to him we'll come out allright. It's no fun to try for--for it, and have the sophs give us themerry ha-ha."

  "Oh, we'll try to get it," assented Phil Clinton, "but I don't likebeing ordered around."

  "Langridge doesn't mean anything by it," spoke his friend.

  "Well, I don't like it." And with that the lads passed into thedormitory, for it was nearly time for supper, and the rule was that theymust come to the tables neatly dressed.

  A little later Langridge and Holly strolled up to the buildings wherethe three hundred students of Randall College were housed.

  "Then you'll be on hand, eh?" asked Langridge.

  "Oh, yes, I reckon so. But it seems like a lot of work for what we getout of it."

  "Get out of it! You old anthropoid!" exclaimed Langridge. "What's thematter with you? Going back on the college customs?"

  "What's an anthropoid?" asked Holly Cross, as he deftly juggled threestones with one hand. "How's that for good work?" he asked irrelevantly.

  "An anthropoid is a second cousin to a cynic," answered Langridge, "anda cynic is a fellow whose liver is out of order, which makes him have abad taste in his mouth and get out of the wrong side of bed."

  "Get out, you camel-backed asteroid!" cried Holly. "There's nothing thematter with my mouth, and I can get out of either side of my cot withoutknowing which side it is."

  "Are you coming to-night?"

  "Sure, I'll be there."

  "All right; that's what I want to know."

  Holly and Langridge passed into the east dormitory, where they had beenpreceded by the other group of freshmen. This building was given overto rooms for the first year and senior students, while in the westdormitory the sophomores and juniors, as being the least likely toindulge in hazing and horse-play, did their studying and sleeping.

  There are few institutions of learning better known throughout theMiddle West than Randall College. It had been established severaldecades before, and though small at first, and unimportant, the thoroughmethods used soon attracted attention from parents who had sons toeducate. Many a well-known man of to-day, who has made his mark in theworld, owes part of his success, at least, to Randall College, and he isproud to acknowledge it. In time, because of liberal endowments, andbecause the institution became better known, its influence spread,until, from a small seat of learning, it became a large one, and nowstudents from many States attend there.

  Randall College was most fortunately situated. It was on the outskirtsof the town of Haddonfield, and thus was connected by railroad withthe outside world. It was far enough away from town to be rid of thedistractions of a semi-city life, yet near enough so that the advantagesof it could be had.

  The buildings composing the college consisted of several in addition tothe main one, containing the classrooms, lecture halls, laboratories,study rooms and the like. There was Biology Hall, a magnificent giftfrom an alumnus, and Booker Memorial Chapel, a place of worship,containing some wonderful stained-glass windows. The chapel was the giftof a lady, whose only son had died while attending the school. Back ofthe main college building, and somewhat to the left, was a modeststructure, where the faculty, including Dr. Albertus Churchill, thevenerable president, had their living apartments.

  Farther to the rear of the main structure were two buildings thatcontained dormitories and rooms for the three hundred or more students.There were two dormitory buildings, the east and the west, and, forobvious reasons, one, the eastern, was inhabited by the freshmen andseniors, while
the juniors and sophomores lived, moved and had theirbeing in the other.

  The gymnasium, which was well equipped, was located a little to the leftof the west dormitory, and it adjoined the baseball diamond and thefootball gridiron. Skirting the edges of this big, level field were thegrandstands and bleachers, for sports had a proper and important part inlife at Randall.

  Standing on the knoll in front of the main building, one looked down agentle, grassy slope to Sunny River, which twisted in and out, lazilyenough, around a hill that contained the college and the grounds. Thecampus swept down, in a sort of oval, to the very edge of the stream.And there is no finer sight in all this country than to stand on thesteps of the main building some fine summer day (or, for that matter, awintry one) and look off to the river. If you are patriotic, and ofcourse you are, you will take off your hat to the colors that fly from atall flagpole in the center of the campus.

  Sunny River was a beautiful stream, not as broad as some rivers, butsufficiently so to provide boating facilities for the Randall students.On it, every year, was held the annual regatta, Randall and some otherinstitutions participating. There was a large boathouse on the edge ofthe river, located on your left as you stood on the campus, facing thewater.

  Sunny River flowed into Lake Tonoka, which was about a mile below thecollege, and in the midst of the lake was Crest Island. What excitingtimes that lake and river have seen during the summer season! Whatrowing races! What swimming races! What jolly picnics! And, let uswhisper, what mysterious scenes on nights when some luckless candidatewas initiated into a secret society!

  On the farther side of the river from the village, and near the junctionwith the lake, was a sort of park, or summer resort. A trolley lineran from it to the town of Haddonfield, but the students more oftenpreferred to walk to the village, rather than wait for the cars, whichran on uncertain schedules.

  At the lower end of Lake Tonoka, just over the line in another State,was Boxer Hall, a college somewhat smaller than Randall, while to thewest, fifteen miles away, was Fairview Institute, a co-educationalschool that was well patronized. The three institutions had a commoninterest in sports, and there was a tri-collegiate league of debatingclubs that often furnished milder, if more substantial, excitement.

  It was an evening in early April, of the new term after the Eastervacation, that a number of freshmen, who had taken part in the livelyscene of the afternoon, and some students who had not, met silently andstealthily back of the boathouse on the back of Sunny River. The nightwas cloudy, and thus it was darker than usual at that hour.

  "Have you fellows got the rope?" asked Langridge in a whisper, as hetook his place at the head of the little force.

  "Of course," answered Phil Clinton.

  "There's no 'of course' about it," retorted Langridge arrogantly. "I'veseen the time it's been forgotten."

  "What are we going to do with it?" asked Sid Henderson.

  "Use it to hang a soph with," spoke Holly Cross. "Prepare to meet thydoom!" he added in a sepulchral voice.

  "Cut it out, Holly," advised Langridge. "I'm afraid the sophs are on tous as it is."

  "Then we'll rush 'em!" exclaimed Phil Clinton aggressively.

  "No, that won't do any good. We'd never get the clapper, then."

  "I know a good way," spoke Fenton. "My uncle says----"

  "Say, you and your uncle ought to be in a glass case and in the museum,"called Holly. "Dry up, Fenton!"

  "Where's the Snail?" asked Langridge.

  "Here," replied Sam Looper, who, from his slow movements, and from thefact that he loved to prowl about in the dark, for he could see wellafter nightfall, had gained that nickname. "What do you want?"

  "Will you climb up the rope after I get it in place?"

  "Sure."

  "Then come on," whispered Langridge. "I guess it's safe now. There don'tappear to be any one stirring."

  The mysterious body of freshmen moved off in the darkness toward theBooker Memorial Chapel. Their object, as you have probably guessed, wasto climb to the steeple and remove the clapper from the bell, a prankthat was sanctioned by years of custom at Randall College. Once the bigtongue of iron was secured, it would be taken to a village jeweler, whowould have it melted up and cast into scores of miniature clappers.

  These, when nickel-plated, made appropriate watch charms for the freshmenclass, and suitably, they thought, demonstrated their superiority overtheir long-time rivals, the sophomores. For it was the duty of thesecond-year students, if possible, to prevent the taking away of theclapper. The purloining of it must always be done the first week afterthe Easter vacation, and if this passed by without the freshmen beingsuccessful, the clapper was safe, immune and inviolate. Hence the need ofhaste, as but two more nights were left. Once the clapper was taken theclass had to contribute money enough to buy another for the voicelessbell.

  Silently, as befitted the occasion, the lads made their way from therendezvous at the boathouse toward the chapel. Their plan was simple. Ontop of the cupola which held the bell was a large cross. It was thecustom to tie a stone, or some weight, to a light cord, throw the weightover the cross, and by means of the thin string haul up a heavy rope. Upthis rope some freshman would climb, remove the clapper, and slide downagain, while his comrades stood guard against any attack of sophomores.

  "Who's going to throw the stone?" asked Ed Kerr, as he walked alongbeside Langridge.

  "I am, of course."

  "Oh, of course," repeated Clinton in a low voice. "You want to runeverything."

  "Well, Fred Langridge is a good pitcher," spoke Sid Henderson. "He'slikely to make the 'varsity this year."

  "Um!" was all Phil said.

  The boys reached the chapel, and, under the direction of Langridge, thecord and rope were made ready.

  "Got a good stone?" asked the leader.

  "Here's a hunk of lead," replied Ed. "I made it on purpose. It's not solikely to slip out as a stone."

  "That's good. Hand it over."

  The lead was soon fastened to the cord.

  "Look out, now, here goes!" called Langridge. "I'm going to pitch itover. Be all ready, Snail."

  He stepped back, and tossed the lead, intending to make the cord fallacross one arm of the cross. But either his aim was poor, or he couldnot discern well enough in the darkness the outlines of the cross.

  "Missed it!" exclaimed Clinton.

  "Well, so would you," growled Langridge. "Some one stepped on the cord."

  "Let Snail try," suggested Henderson.

  "I'm doing this throwing," declared Langridge curtly.

  "It doesn't look so," murmured Phil.

  Langridge tried again, but with no success.

  "Hurry," spoke Kerr. "The sophs will be out soon."

  Langridge made a third attempt, and failed. Then Snail Looper called outin an excited whisper:

  "Here come the sophs! Cut it!"

  "No!" cried Langridge. "Hold on! I'll get it over now. Fight 'em back,boys!"