CHAPTER XIV
TOM'S CURVES
There was lively practice of the Randall nine the following week, andCoach Lighton said some things that hurt, but they were needed. Nor wasLangridge spared, though he affected not to mind the sharp admonitionthat he must pitch more consistently.
The nine played a game Saturday with an outside team, more for practicethan anything else, and won it "hands down," as Holly Cross said. But,after all, it was not much credit to the 'varsity, for their opponentswere not as good as the college scrub. Holly caught, the period ofKerr's suspension not being up yet.
Tom kept at his practice, but he was more than glad when he could resumehis class work again and take his place on the second nine.
"Now we'll tackle work together," said the coach one afternoon to Tom,for Mr. Lighton had not been allowed to give him directions during thesuspension weeks. "I hope you haven't gone stale, Parsons."
"I hope not. Kerr and I have been sort of practicing together."
"That's good. I hope, before the season is over, that you and he will gointo a regular game together. If not, you'll have your 'innings' nextyear, if you progress as you have been doing."
Tom was glad of the praise, but he would have been more glad of a chanceto get on the 'varsity. Still he determined to do his best on the scrub,but it was hard and rather thankless work.
Mr. Lighton put him through a hard course of "sprouts" that afternoon.With some members of the scrub to bat against him, Tom sent in swift andpuzzling balls, for all the while his ability to curve was increasingand his control was improving. That afternoon he struck out six men insuccession, retiring them without having given any one of them more thantwo balls. It was very good work, and the fact that the men were notextraordinary good hitters did not detract from it.
"That's fine!" cried Mr. Lighton enthusiastically. "I'm going to----"But what he was going to do he did not say.
"They ought to make you substitute pitcher on the 'varsity team," wasthe opinion of Dutch Housenlager when the practice was over. "Rod Evertisn't one-two-six with you, and he doesn't do any practicing to speakof."
"Maybe he feels that he doesn't have to, for Langridge seems to makegood nearly every time," spoke Tom.
"Aw, rats! All that keeps Langridge manager is his money. He certainlyruns the financial end of the game to perfection. And if he wasn'tmanager he wouldn't be pitcher. But the fellows know he takes a lot ofresponsibility from them, and they're just easy enough to let thingsslide. Some day we'll be up against it. Langridge will be knocked out ofthe box, Evert won't be in form, and we'll lose the game."
"Unless they call on 'yours truly,'" interjected Tom with a laugh.
"Exactly," agreed Dutch seriously. "That's my point. I wish they'd nameyou for sub. I'm going to ask----"
"No, no!" expostulated Tom quickly. "If I can't get there on my ownmerits, I don't want it. No favors, please. I can wait."
"Well, just as you say, of course. But say, there's the Grasshopper.Watch me make him jump."
He pointed to Pete Backus, a tall student, who seemed to be measuringoff a certain distance on a grassy stretch down near the river.
"Looks as if he was going to jump without you making him," observed Tom.
"Oh, he's always jumping. He thinks he's great at it. Wants to make thetrack team, but he can't seem to do it. He'll do his distance easilyone day and fall down the next. You can't depend on him. But I'll makehim jump now. Sneak down behind those bushes."
Tom followed Dutch softly. There were no other students about and theymanaged to gain the screen of the bushes unobserved by the Grasshopper,who was intent on measuring distances with a pocket tape. The twoconspirators could see where he had been practicing the broad jump.
The Grasshopper stood close to a clump of elder bushes, with his back tothem. He was preparing for another test. Dutch Housenlager, who was nothappy unless he was engaged in some joke or horse play, silently cut along pole and fastened to it a big pin, which he extracted from somepart of his garments. Then, seeing a good opening that gave access to atender part of the rear elevation of the Grasshopper's legs, he thrustwith no gentle hand just as poor Pete was about to throw himself forwardin a standing broad jump.
"Wow!" cried the punctured one.
But it was so sudden that he did not have time to stop his leap, whichhe was on the verge of making, and he sprang through the air like ananimated jumping-jack.
"Fine! fine!" cried Dutch, rising up from his place of concealment."That's the time you beat your own record, Grasshopper."
Pete turned. He looked over the space he had covered. His heels had comedown at least a foot beyond where he had previously landed. The look ofanger on his face, as he felt of his pricked leg, turned to one ofsatisfaction.
"By Jove! I believe you're right," he exclaimed. "I have done betterby--let's see"--and he measured it--"by fourteen inches."
"I told you so," called Dutch, still laughing. "Next time you want tojump, just let me get in the bushes behind you. It'll be good for anextra foot every time."
"Um," murmured the Grasshopper, still rubbing his leg reflectively. "Itwas an awful jab though, Dutch."
"What of it? Look at your distance," and once more Pete looked happy ashe again measured the space he had covered.
"Poor old Grasshopper," commented Dutch as he and Tom strolled along thecampus, leaving the jumper still at his practice. "Poor old Grasshopper!He'll never make the track team."
The next few days saw Tom putting in all his spare time practicingcurves under the watchful eye of Mr. Lighton. The 'varsity played withthe scrub and narrowly escaped a good drubbing. Langridge seemed to beasleep part of the time and issued a number of walking papers. It wasafter the contest, which the regulars had pulled out of the fire withrather scorched fingers, that the coach called Captain Woodhouse andLangridge to him.
"I rather think we'd better make a little shift," he said.
"In what way?" asked Langridge quickly.
"Well, I think we ought to name Parsons as substitute pitcher onthe 'varsity. He's been doing excellent work, fully equal to yours,Langridge. Of course he's a little uncertain yet, but one big game wouldtake that out of him. I'd like to see him pitch at least part of thegame against Boxer next week."
"Does that mean you're dissatisfied with me?" asked Langridge quickly,and his face flushed.
"Not necessarily. But I think it rather risky not to provide better thanwe have for a substitute pitcher. Evert is available, of course, but ashe is a junior his studies are such that he can't devote the necessarytime to practice. Parsons ought to be named."
"Do you demand that in your official capacity as coach, Mr. Lighton?"asked Kindlings. "Because if you do, I'll agree to it at once."
"No, I merely make that suggestion to you."
The captain looked at the manager. Langridge stood with a supercilioussmile on his face.
"I presume I shall have something to say as manager," he remarked.
"Certainly," admitted the coach gravely.
"Then I say Parsons shan't act as substitute pitcher. I'm good for theseason, and I'm going to play it out. I see his game. He wants to oustme and he's taken this means of doing it. He got you to plead for him,Mr. Lighton. I'll not stand for it."
"You're entirely mistaken, Langridge," said the coach, with the leastsuspicion of annoyance in his even voice. "It is my own idea. Parsonsdoes not even know that I have spoken to you; in fact, I believe that hewould not allow me to."
Langridge was sneering now.
"I guess he would," he said.
"Then you, as manager, don't want Parsons as substitute pitcher?" askedthe coach.
"No!" snapped Langridge.
"Of course if you order it, Mr. Lighton," began honest Kindlings with anuneasy look at the coach--"of course if you make a point of it----"
"No, I don't," and Mr. Lighton spoke quietly. "That was not myintention--just yet. Parsons will remain on the scrub then, at least forthe present. Later I
may--er--I may make a point of it," and he turnedand walked away.