CHAPTER XVIII
DIPLOMACY THAT FAILED
"Gus, I can't get it out of my head," said Bill one day, "that we'renot, as they say in diplomatic language, entirely _persona grata_ here.At least, not as we should want to be if we have the proper loyalty tothe school. We have our friends, of course, among seniors, freshmen andeven some of the sophs, but the sophs generally have very little use forus. Even some of our own class, in the sports, have a big leaning towardSiebold and his bunch, and they like to go along with the shouters."
"Well, I guess they'll have to go along, then," remarked Gusindifferently.
"But Gus, it's a reflection on us. We ought to be in as good fellowshipas anybody. Now that we've made out so well in our radio work and arenot nearly so busy, with the rest of the term all lectures and exams,you know, we might gee in a little with the social end of it. Andsports, too, Gus. I can't do anything but look on and shout, butyou----"
Bill's remarks were inspired by a glimpse across the greensward at abunch of fellows on the ball field, evidently at town ball and practice.With the coming of spring and warm weather the Tech ball team had beennewly organized and put at practice. The next month would see themcrossing bats with Guilford Academy, Springdale School and other nearbyinstitutions. There was great rivalry between the home team and GuilfordAcademy, which had a strong team, and was much the better of the two,except that the Tech School had acquired, through Siebold's efforts, avery good outside pitcher who kept the Academy lads guessing much of thetime. The winning of games, therefore, during the preceding season hadbeen pretty even, Guilford leading by one.
And then, at the behest of older and more judicial heads, representativesof the League of Schools had met and decided that each team must playonly with members of its student body, hiring no semi-professionalpitchers, or even coachers, thus making the contests entirely fair.
A result of this was that in the games of this season Guilford, with apitcher from among its fellows who had previously given his services toother teams as well, simply ran away with Marshallton Tech, winning onegame by the score of fifteen to two and the other was a shut-out.
"Gus, I've bought a ball and I've got Sam Kerry, who says he used tocatch for his home team somewhere in the west, to agree to keep hismouth shut and pass a few with you, off somewhere where nobody willsee."
"Righto, old Bill! Anything you say--but what's the idea?"
"Well, Gus, I don't like Guilford's swamping this team in the way ithas, and I propose to try to stop it." Bill's lips were compressed andhe had that look in his eyes that meant determination.
"But Siebold--" began Gus.
"Doesn't entirely run this school, nor its ball team, even if he iscaptain and general high muck-a-muck," declared Bill.
It was with extreme satisfaction that Bill sat on a log at one side of apath in the woods and watched little Kerry, who proved to be no meanhand at stopping all kinds of balls, nearly knocked off his feet by themachine-gun-like pitches of "that other fellow from Freeport," as Guswas sometimes called.
One early afternoon the gym instructor also sat by Bill and watched theperformance. Mr. Gay had promised secrecy, but not to refrain fromcomment.
"I'll say he has not only got command of his ball and three good styles,but he also knows some tricks that ought to worry any man at the bat.Throw that waiting ball again, Grier!" the instructor called. "I want towatch that--oh, fine! It looks like a hard one and a fellow will strikeover it nine times out of ten. Well, I've got this to say: If we expectto win any games we've got to have a fellow like Grier in the box, butSiebold will stick to Maxwell who is about a fifth rater--at his best."
"But has Siebold all the say?" Bill queried.
"A good deal of it. You see his father backs up the boy in everything,and he has put the club on its feet financially, in a bigger way thaneven the Guilford team. Moreover, the elder Siebold's money built ourgrandstand, the dressing-rooms and hired our pitchers for quite a while.So young Siebold can afford to play politics and insure a following,which nobody, even the professors, can stop. And the faculty and theDoctor don't bother over the matter. That chap is going to be a statesenator, or a Congressman some day, I have no doubt."
"It won't work, though, Mr. Gay," declared Bill, "because it isn'tjustice. Others besides Siebold are interested in and loyal to theschool. We want to see our team win, don't we?"
"Yes, of course. I'm going to shoot that at Siebold and, if you'll letme, I'm going to hint that we have a pitcher among us who outranks hischoice in all the high points."
It was on the next afternoon, which was rainy, that Bill found thelibrary pretty full of readers and among them were six or seven of theball team. He took a seat beside Dixon and directly across the tablefrom Siebold and Sadler. He turned to Dixon:
"When is the next ball game?" he asked.
"We play Springdale next Saturday, but they're easy. The last game withGuilford is Saturday week."
"It's too bad that we get licked so unmercifully when there's no needfor it," Bill remarked.
"No need for it? No, there's no need for it, but----"
"I suppose we have needed it to put some sense into us, but no longer.It would be pretty easy to clean that bunch if we went at it right."
"How easy?" asked Dixon.
"Why, you know without asking that. Putting a good man in the box andanother behind the bat, of course."
"Where'd you get your good man?"
"Here in the school."
"Who?"
"I guess you'll have to keep your eyes open. Anybody ought to----"
"Listen to this, Siebold." Dixon leaned over the table. "Brown sayswe've got pitching material----"
"Well, what of it? Don't I know it?"
"It's a blamed sure bet he doesn't know it, or if he does he ought to bejailed for conspiracy to beat the school team," laughed Bill, stilladdressing Dixon.
"How's that, Brown? What's your dope?" ventured Sadler, who alone reallydared to question Siebold's authority. Bill went on, in forciblelanguage, for he was aware that Siebold was listening, and repeated whathe had said to Mr. Gay and to Dixon. The argument about every one in theschool being interested in the success of the ball team seemed to strikehome, and several boys gathering round began to make comments favorableto the sentiment. The librarian came over and objected to the talking.
"Let's go down to the gym and talk this thing over," said Sadler. "Brownwill spring this man on us if we'll try him--eh, Brown?"
"Why, sure," said Bill, rising.
"Come on, Siebold."
"Too busy reading. Nothing to it, anyway." Siebold didn't even look upfrom his book.
"Is that so?" Sadler was angry. It was evident that he was willing tooppose the captain. Bill thought he saw an opportunity right here.
"He has only one vote," he said, "and I understand that all of us whocare to may have a say. I know several fellows who----"
Bill got no further. Siebold began to see that it might be best topermit no defection from his ranks and no outside interference. Hefollowed the others out and across the campus, no word being said allthe way by the several boys who, in part, made up the executivecommittee on baseball. They filed into the gym and got Mr. Gay intotheir conference.
"Now, then, Brown, what have you got under your skin?" said Sieboldtestily.
"You heard me in the library," said Bill.
"Balderdash! There isn't a fellow in the school who can pitch likeMaxwell."
"Oh, yes, there is, Siebold," said Mr. Gay. "There's no one who can playfirst base like Maxwell and your first baseman says he has a glass armand is done. We have a pitcher who can pitch."
"That's the cheese!" said Maxwell. "I've told Siebold all along he oughtto replace me."
"Who is this wonderful guy?" asked Siebold.
"I'll bet it's that other fellow from Freeport," put in one of thecaptain's staunch supporters.
"Call it off in that case," S
iebold demanded.
"No, we won't call it off. We'll try him at practice," said Sadler.
"Who's captain of this team? We'll play in our present positions, all ofus, or we won't play at all."
"That's right," echoed two or three followers. Bill laughed.
"Will you accept a challenge to play a school scrub team?"
"No, nor that. Waste of time----"
"That's nothing but silly stubbornness," said Sadler, with rising wrath."Wouldn't it be just like practice? You're a fatheaded----"
"Oh, now, see here, Siebold," interposed the instructor. "You can'trefuse that. It will only bring out the best players and strengthen theteam."
"Well, then, if Mr. Gay says so," Siebold agreed, "we'll play you and wecan shut out any bunch you can get together."