Fast Nine: or, A Challenge from Fairfield

He tried to bunt the next one, but made a failure of the job; for Elmer had readily guessed that such must be his orders, with that man on second.

So Mulligan passed away, being fed one of the teasers that he tried to meet by stepping forward, but without the slightest success.

Next came Ballinger, the catcher. Like most men behind the bat, accustomed to seeing all manner of balls coming toward men throughout the whole game, Ballinger was a fairly good man with the stick. He believed he could pick out a good one, and do something worth while.

His best was a high fly that Ty gathered in away out in deep center; but after the ball settled in his hands McDowd managed to make third, again by a slide, at which he seemed particularly clever.

It was now up to Matt Tubbs. Adopting the tactics of his rival when Lil Artha was at bat, Elmer sought to pass the hard-hitting pitcher of the Fairfields. He had given two balls when Matt reached out, and took one that was intended as a wide curve.

It shot past Matty near second, and went buzzing out into the field. Even then it was tagged with so much speed that before it could be sent in home McDowd had scored, and Tubbs was nestled on the second bag.

Then arose a fearful roar. If only Wagner had found his batting eye he would surely send his captain home with the tying run.

"Lucky seven, Felix! You know what we want! Everybody holler!"

Such a terrible racket as ensued. Of course part of this came from excitement; but there was also a desire to put heart in the Fairfield players, as well as to rattle Elmer.

He showed no sign of going to pieces. His manner would indicate that he was as cool as a cucumber. Wagner was dancing around the home plate, trying to tantalize the opposing pitcher.

"Strike one!" called the umpire, as a good one whizzed past.

"Get up against it, Felix. Quit your kiddin', and do business. It only takes one to bring Matt in!" shouted a player.

Wagner now toed the mark, and prepared to strike. The shouts died away as quickly as they had sprung into existence. All eyes were on the pitcher, and the lad who stood there, lazily swinging his bat forward and back in regular rhythm, as he endeavored to gauge the coming delivery of the ball.

Judgment at such a critical time has to come with the rapidity of lightning. In the flash of an eye the batter has to decide whether it is a drop, an out curve, an inward shoot, a straight, swift one over the rubber, or a teaser that will apparently start out well, only to hold up in mid-air, and leave him to strike long before the ball gets within reaching distance.

Wagner waited and struck at a slow drop. What was more, he hit it, too, a vicious tap that electrified the entire crowd. Again those who were sitting down jumped up to see what had happened. They evidently expected to see one of the fielders running like mad after the ball. Nothing of the sort.

Red simply threw out, and touched Matt Tubbs as he tried to get back to second in great haste, after realizing that the ball had been shot straight into the hands of short.

It was, of course, a double play, unassisted. And tumultuous cheers followed as the Hickory Ridge boys came trotting in from the field. Nothing would do but that Red must take off his cap, and thus acknowledge the fact that the fickle populace wished to do him honor.

In their half of the seventh the Hickory Ridge fellows made another hard bid for a run. Elmer, the first man up, drove the first ball pitched out in right for a single. Mark duplicated the performance, only he seemed rather to fancy the left garden for his planting.

Two on bases, and none out! Catcalls and groans marked the disgust of the rooters who wanted to see Fairfield win, while loud cheers told the club at bat that their friends expected them to add to the score this inning.

But that wizard Tubbs was at it again. He mowed Ted down without mercy. The batter afterward declared that the ball went past him with wings on it; and that he couldn't make sure whether it passed over the rubber or two feet outside.

Toby had been fairly lucky in meeting the offerings of Matt; but he, too, fell a victim. Meanwhile the fellows on bases, much as they wanted to engineer a double steal, found not the slightest chance to do so, with this clockwork going on between the pitcher and catcher.

Lil Artha was up again.

Would he duplicate his previous performance, and send out a homer? McDowd evidently feared as much, to judge from the way he went back. But Lil Artha fooled them all, for he dropped a little one between first and second, and while nobody got home on the hit, he managed to gain first through the fumble.

Chatz had a glorious opportunity presented to him. A hit would mean two more tallies. Chatz tried his best, and connected with a good one. With the crack of the bat the crowd uttered a thrilling shout. Then they saw Poole, playing just off first, gather the ball in with astonishing cleverness, and leap for his bag.

In the eighth it was just one, two, three for Fairfield. Elmer bad them guessing all the time with his curves, his change to a swift one, and then that terrible teaser that only one fellow had as yet managed to connect with, and that to his side's undoing.

Nor were the Hickory Ridge boys able to add more runs in their half, four batters only facing Tubbs.

The ninth opened. Unless Fairfield could score one run to tie, the game would end then and there, the Hickory Ridge fellows having no need to go in again.

It was a tense situation when, with one man on second, and but a single fellow out, Elmer stood up to his work, smiling, cool and satisfied that he could do it, with the fine assistance he was receiving from his backing.

In vain did the next batter try to connect. One little foul was the best he was able to do. That brought it to the last one, who chanced to be the hard-hitting catcher, Ballinger.

A dead silence fell upon the crowd as Elmer began to feed him slow ones. Once Ballinger struck, and was greeted by a whoop from the excited Hickory Ridge rooters, anxiously watching every move. The next one he declined to touch; and lo, it went over the plate for a second strike. Rendered desperate finally, and seeing still a third floater coming sailing wabblingly along, Ballinger stepped forward and made a vicious swing for it, only to have his bat pass through thin air.

Then arose a tumultuous whoop. The game was over, and the score stood two to one in favor of Hickory Ridge.

While the shouts of the multitude were still ringing out, Elmer made straight for the rival pitcher, and thrust out his hand.

"Bully for you, Matt," he said. "It was so even that one little thing settled it – that home run hit. And if you haven't won this game, Matt, it's plain to be seen you've won another that counts for much more. I say good luck to the scouts of Fairfield. They're going to make things hum around here, I guess."

"That's nice of you, Elmer," returned Matt, quietly, yet with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "Somebody's got to lose, and next time it may be you fellers. But I reckon as how Fairfield people knows by now that things has changed some since these here games used to break up in a row. Never again. We're in this scout business for keeps now, and you got to look out, Elmer, if you don't want us to beat you when the two troops get together for tests."

CHAPTER XVI.

THE MYSTERY SOLVED

"I want you to go over with me to Colonel Hitchins, Mark," said Elmer, on the morning after the great victory over the Fairfield scout nine.

"Oh, see here, has it anything to do with that mystery connected with my cap being found under those peach trees that were robbed?" demanded Mark, jumping up; for his chum had found him in his den, busily engaged.

"Perhaps," smiled the other. "And oh, by the way, Mark, perhaps you'd better be sure and wear the very cap that was found. I might want to show it to the colonel again for a purpose."

He declined to say anything more, even though Mark teased him as he got his own wheel out, and the two started forth.

"Just you hold your horses," he said, shaking his head stubbornly. "Sometimes it seems like a long night, but daylight always comes in the end."

"I take that to mean you've made some sort of discovery, then," declared Mark; "and honest, now, Elmer, I'll be mighty glad to know the truth. That thing has puzzled me a heap, I admit. Perhaps Phil Lally has confessed that he found my cap, and left it there when he robbed the trees, meaning to have me looked on as the thief."

"Shucks, Phil Lally never saw your cap; and even if he did he wouldn't know it from mine or some other fellow's.

"Wait, and don't get so impatient. Unless I miss my guess, it'll soon be old history," and Elmer led the way along the road at a hot pace.

They soon arrived at the place of Colonel Hitchins.

"There's Phil Lally working in the garden, and he looks satisfied with the way things have come out," remarked Elmer, as they passed toward the mansion.

"Why shouldn't he be?" argued Mark. "If Phil had his deserts, he'd be on the way to a ten-year sentence at the penitentiary right now. But the old gentleman knew what he was doing when he gave him this last chance; and I really believe the fellow will make good now."

"I'm dead sure of it," Elmer added. "He's had his eyes opened, and the thought of his old and fond mother is going to keep him on the narrow path. But say, turn aside here, and let's take a peep at the tool house, where I had that little rumpus Saturday night."

"I'd like to see it," remarked the other, eagerly; for by this time he knew all the particulars of his chum's exciting adventure, and was deeply interested in everything that pertained to it.

So they walked around the tool house, and even stepped inside, while Elmer proceeded to once more relate how he had managed to fasten the two men in, after they had entered in search of kerosene.