The Triple Play
"If they hadn't gone and made Don captain last year," said Satterlee, 2d,plaintively. "That's where the trouble is.""How do you mean?" asked Tom Pierson, looking up in a puzzled way from thehole he was digging in the turf in front of the school hall."Why," answered Satterlee, 2d, with a fine air of wisdom, "I mean that itdoesn't do for a fellow to have his brother captain. Don's been so afraidof showing me favoritism all spring that he hasn't given me even a fairchance. When I came out for the nine in March and tried for second he wasworried to death. "Look here, Kid," he said, "there's no use your wantingto play on second because there's Henen and Talbot after it." "Well, how doyou know I can't play second as well as they?" says I. He was--washorrified. That's it; a fellow can't understand how a member of his ownfamily can do anything as well as some one else. See what I mean?"Tom Pierson nodded doubtfully."'You try for a place in the outfield,' said Don. 'But I don't want to playin the outfield.' I told him. But it didn't make any difference. 'There'sthree fellows for every infield position.' said Don, 'and I'm not going tohave the fellows accuse me of boosting my kid brother over their heads.'Well, so I did as he said. Of course I didn't have any show. There wasWilliams and Beeton and 'Chick' Meyer who could do a heap better than Icould. They'd played in the outfield ail their lives and I'd always been atsecond--except one year that I caught when I was a kid. Well, maybe nextyear I'll have a better show, for a whole lot of this year's team graduateto-morrow. Wish I did.""I don't," said Tom. "I like it here. I think Willard's the best school inthe country.""So do I, of course," answered Satterlee, 2d. "But don't you want to get upto college?""I'm in no hurry; you see, there's math; I'm not doing so badly at it nowsince Bailey has been helping me, but I don't believe I could pass thecollege exam in it.""You and 'Old Crusty' seem awfully thick these days," mused the other."Wish he'd be as easy on me as he is on you. You were fishing togetheryesterday, weren't you?"Tom nodded. "Sixteen trout," he said promptly."Wish I'd been along," sighed Satterlee, 2d. "All I caught was flies duringpractice. Then when they played the second I sat on the bench as usual andlooked on.""But Don will put you in this afternoon, won't he?""I dare say he will; for the last inning maybe. What good's that? Nothingever happens to a chap in center field. And when a fellow's folks come tovisit him he naturally wants to--to show off a bit."Tom nodded sympathetically."Hard lines," he said. "But why don't you ask your brother to give you afair show; put you in the sixth or something like that?""Because I won't. He doesn't think I can play baseball. I don't care. OnlyI hope--I hope we get beaten!""No, you don't.""How do you know?" asked the other morosely."Because you couldn't," Tom replied. "Is 'Curly' going to pitch?""No, Durham's agreed not to play any of her faculty. Willings is going topitch. I'll bet"--his face lost some of its gloom--"I'll bet it will be adandy game!""Who's going to win?" asked Tom anxiously."You can search me!" answered Satterlee, 2d, cheerfully. "Durham's lostonly two games this season, one to St. Eustace and one to us. And we'velost only the first game with Durham. There you are, Tommy; you can figureit out for yourself. But we won last year and it's safe to say Durham'sgoing to work like thunder to win this. What time is it?""Twenty minutes to twelve," answered Tom."Gee! I've got to find Don and go over to the station to meet the folks.Want to come along? Dad and the mater would like to meet you; you see I'vesaid a good deal about you in my letters.""Won't I be in the way?""Not a bit. In fact--" Satterlee, 2d, hesitated and grinned--"in fact, itwould make it more comfortable if you would come along. You see, Tom, Donand I aren't very chummy just now; I--I gave him a piece of my mind lastnight; and he threw the hairbrush at me." He rubbed the side of his headreflectively. Tom laughed and sprang to his feet."All right," he said. "I'll go, if just to keep you two from fighting.We'll have to hurry, though; you don't want to forget that dinner's half anhour earlier to-day.""Guess you never knew me to forget dinner time, did you?" asked Satterlee,2d, with a laugh.Three hours later the two boys sat nursing their knees on the terrace abovethe playground. Behind them in camp chairs sat Mr. and Mrs. Satterlee. Toright and left stretched a line of spectators, the boys of Willard's and ofDurham surrounded by their friends and relatives. Tomorrow was graduationday at the school and mothers and fathers and sisters and elderbrothers--many of the latter "old boys"--were present in numbers. At thefoot of the terrace, near first base, a red and white striped awning hadbeen erected and from beneath its shade the principal, Doctor Willard,together with the members of the faculty and their guests, sat and watchedthe deciding game of the series. The red of Willard's was predominant, buthere and there a dash of blue, the color of the rival academy, was to beseen. On a bench over near third base a line of blue-stockinged playersawaited their turns at bat, for it was the last half of the third inningand Willard's was in the field. Behind the spectators arose the ivy-drapedfront of the school hall and above them a row of elms cast grateful shade.Before them, a quarter of a mile distant, the broad bosom of the riverflashed and sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. But few had eyes for that,for Durham had two men on bases with two out and one of her heavy hitterswas at bat. Thus far there had been no scoring and now there was abreathless silence as Willings put the first ball over the plate."Strike!" droned the umpire, and a little knot of boys on the bank wavedred banners and cheered delightedly. Then ball and bat came together andthe runner was speeding toward first. But the hit had been weak and longbefore he reached the bag the ball was snuggling in Donald Satterlee'smitten, and up on the terrace the Willardians breathed their relief. Thenines changed sides."That's Fearing, our catcher, going to bat, sir," said Satterlee, 2d,looking around at his father. Mr. Satterlee nodded and transferred hiswandering attention to the youth in question. Mr. Satterlee knew verylittle about the game and was finding it difficult to display the properamount of interest. Mrs. Satterlee, however, smiled enthusiastically ateverything and everybody and succeeded in conveying the impression that shewas breathlessly interested in events."Er--is he going to hit the ball?" asked Mr. Satterlee in a heroic endeavorto rise to the requirements of the occasion."He's going to try," answered his youngest son with a smile. "But he isn'tgoing to succeed, I guess," he muttered a minute later. For the catcher hadtwo strikes called on him and was still at the plate. Then all doubt wasremoved. He tossed aside his bat and turned back to the bench."And who is that boy?" asked Mrs. Satterlee."That's Cook," answered Tom. "He plays over there, you know; he'sshortstop.""Of course," murmured the lady. "I knew I had seen him."Cook reached first, more by good luck than good playing, and the Willardsupporters found their voices again. Then came Brown, third base-man, andwas thrown out at first after having advanced Cook to second."Here comes Don," announced his younger brother with a trace of envy in histones."I do hope he'll hit the ball!" cried his mother."Oh, he'll hit it all right," answered Satterlee, 2d, "only maybe he won'thit it hard enough."Nor did he. Durham's third baseman gathered in the short fly that thebatsman sent up and so ended the inning."Something's going to happen now, I'll bet," said Tom. "Carpenter's up.""He didn't do much last time," objected Satterlee, 2d, "even if he is sucha wonder. Willings struck him out dead easy."Carpenter, who played third base for the visitors, was a tall, light-hairedyouth with a reputation for batting prowess. In the first game of theseries between the two schools Carpenter's hitting had been the decidingfeature. Three one-baggers, a two-bagger, and a home-run had been creditedto him when the game was over, and it was the home-run, smashed out with aman on third in the eighth inning, which had defeated Willard's. In thesecond game, played a fortnight ago, Carpenter had been noticeably out ofform, which fact had not a little to do with Willard's victory. To-day thelong-limbed gentleman, despite his retirement on the occasion of his firstmeeting with Willings, was in fine fettle, and scarcely had Satterlee, 2d,concluded his remark when there was a sharp crack and the white spherewas skimming second baseman's head. It was a clean, well-placed hit, andeven the wearers of the blue had to applaud a little. Carpenter's long legstwinkled around the bases and he was safe at third before the ball hadreturned to the infield. Then things began to happen. As though the spellhad been broken by the third baseman's three-bagger, the followingDurhamites found the ball, man after man, and ere the inning was at an end,the score book told a different tale. On Durham's page stood four tallies;Willard's was still empty. And Willard's supporters began to look uneasy.Then there was no more scoring until the sixth inning, when a single byDonald Satterlee brought in Cook who had been taking big risks on secondand who reached the plate a fraction of a second ahead of the ball.Willard's got the bases full that inning and for a time it seemed that theywould tie the score, but Beeton popped a fly into shortstop's hands andtheir hopes were dashed.Durham started their half of the sixth with Carpenter up and thatdependable youth slammed out a two-base hit at once. The flaunters of thered groaned dismally. Then the Durham pitcher fouled out and the next manadvanced Carpenter but was put out at first. Willard's breathed easier andtook hope. Over on third base Carpenter was poised, ready to speed home asfast as his long legs would carry him. Willings, who had so far pitched aremarkable game, suddenly went "into the air." Perhaps it was the coachingback of third, perhaps it was Carpenter's disconcerting rushes andhand-clapping. At all events, the Durham first baseman, who was acool-headed youth, waited politely and patiently and so won the privilegeof trotting to first on four balls. Fearing, Willard's catcher, walked downto Willings, and the two held a whispered conversation. They didn't lay anyplots, for all Fearing wanted to do was to steady the pitcher.Then came a strike on the next batsman, and the Willardians cheeredhopefully. Two balls followed, and Carpenter danced about delightedly atthird and the two coaches hurled taunting words at the pitcher. The man onfirst was taking a long lead, pretty certain that Willings would not dareto throw lest Carpenter score. But Willings believed in doing theunexpected. Unfortunately, although he turned like a flash and shot theball to Satterlee, the throw was wide. The captain touched it with hisoutstretched fingers but it went by. The runner sped toward second andCarpenter raced home. But Beeton, right-fielder, had been wide-awake. AsWillings turned he ran in to back up Satterlee, found the ball on a lowbounce and, on the run, sent it to the plate so swiftly that Fearing wasable to catch Carpenter a yard away from it. The Durham third basemanpicked himself up, muttering his opinion of the proceedings and lookingvery cross. But what he said wasn't distinguishable, for up on the terracethe red flags were waving wildly and the boys of Willard's were shoutingthemselves hoarse.When, in the beginning of the seventh inning, Durham took the field andWillings went to bat, Captain Don Satterlee came up the bank and threwhimself on the grass by his father's side. He looked rather worried andvery warm."Well, my boy," said Mr. Satterlee, "I guess you're in for a licking thistime, eh?""I'm afraid so," was the morose reply. "We can't seem to find their pitcherfor a cent." He turned to his brother. "I'll put you in for the ninth, ifyou like," he said."Oh, don't trouble yourself," answered the other. "You've got along withoutme so far and I guess you can finish.""Well, you needn't be so huffy," answered the elder. "You can play or not,just as you like. But you don't have to be ugly about it.""I'm not," muttered Satterlee, 2d."Sounds mighty like it. Want to play?"The other hesitated, swallowed once or twice and kicked the turf with hisheel."Of course he wants to play, Don," said Tom Pierson. "Give him a chance,like a good chap.""Well, I've offered him a chance, haven't I?" asked Don ungraciously. "Iguess it doesn't make much difference who plays this game." He scowled atWillings who had been thrown out easily at first and was now discouragedlywalking back to the bench. "You can take Williams's place when the ninthbegins," he added, turning to his brother. The latter nodded silently. Aslightly built, sandy-haired man, with bright blue eyes and a look ofauthority, approached the group and Don, with a muttered apology, joinedhim."That's our coach," explained Tom to Mrs. Satterlee. "He's instructor inGreek and German, and he's a peach! The fellows call him 'Curly' on accountof his hair. He pitched for us last year and he won the game, too! I guesshe and Don are trying to find some way out of the hole they're in. Ifanyone can do it he can, can't he?"Thus appealed to, Satterlee, 2d, came out of his reverie."Yes, I guess so. I wish he was pitching, that's all I wish! I'll betCarpenter wouldn't make any more of those hits of his!"Willard's third out came and once more the teams changed places. The sunwas getting low and the shadows on the terrace were lengthening. Durhamstarted out with a batting streak and almost before anyone knew it thebases were full with but one out. Then, just when things were at theirgloomiest, a short hit to second baseman resulted in a double play, andonce more Willard's found cause for delight and acclaim.The eighth inning opened with Don Satterlee at bat. Luck seemed for amoment to have made up its mind to favor the home team. An in-shoot caughtthe batsman on the thigh and he limped to first. Meyer--"Chick" Meyer, asTom triumphantly explained--sent him to second and gained first forhimself, owing to an error. Then came an out. Beeton followed with ascratch hit just back of shortstop and the bases were full. Up on theterrace the cheering was continuous. Williams was struck out. Then cameWillings with a short hit past third and Don scored. And the bases werestill full. But the next man flied out to left fielder and the cheeringdied away. But 2 to 4 was better than 1 to 4, and the supporters of thehome team derived what comfort they could from the fact.In the last of the eighth, the doughty Carpenter started things going bytaking first on balls. It was apparent that "Willings had given it to him"rather than risk a long hit. The next man was less fortunate and was thrownout after a neat sacrifice which put Carpenter on second. Then a pop-flywas muffed by Willings and there were men on first and second. But afterthat Willings, as though to atone for an inexcusable error, settled down towork and struck out the next two Durhamites, and the red flags weresuddenly crazy.Satterlee, 2d, peeled off his sweater and trotted down to the bench. Theninth inning opened inauspiciously for the home nine. Willard's shortstopfell victim to the rival pitcher's curves and third baseman took his place.With two strikes called on him he found something he liked and let go atit. When the tumult was over he was sitting on second base. Don Satterleestepped up to the plate and the cheerers demanded a home-run. But the bestthe red's captain could do was a clean drive into right field that was goodfor one base for himself and a tally for the man on second. That made thescore 3 to 4. It seemed that at last fortune was to favor the red. Thecheering went on and on. Meyer sent the captain to second but was thrownout at first. Another tally would tie the score, but the players who werecoming to bat were the weakest hitters, and Willard's hopes began todwindle. But one can never tell what will happen in baseball, and whenFearing lined out a swift ball over second baseman's head and Don Satterleeromped home, the wearers of the red shrieked in mingled delight andsurprise. The score was tied. But there was more to come. Beeton waited,refusing all sorts of tempting bait, and during that waiting Fearing stolesecond. With three balls and two strikes called on him, Beeton let the nextone go by, and----"Four balls!" decided the umpire.Satterlee, 2d, felt rather limp when he faced the pitcher. His heart waspounding somewhere up near his mouth and it made him feel uncomfortable.Down on second Fearing was watching him anxiously. On first Beeton wasdancing back and forth, while behind him Brother Don coaching hoarsely andthrowing doubtful glances in the direction of the plate."He thinks I can't hit," thought Satterlee, 2d, bitterly. "He's tellinghimself that if he'd left Williams in we might have tallied again."Satterlee, 2d, smarting under his brother's contempt, felt his nervessteady and when the second delivery came he was able to judge it and let itgo by. That made a ball and a strike. Then came another ball. They had toldhim to wait for a good one, and he was going to do it. And presently thegood one came. The pitcher had put himself in a hole; there were threeballs against him and only one strike. So now he sent a swift straight onefor a corner of the plate and Satterlee, 2d, watched it come and then swungto meet it. And in another moment he was streaking for his base, while outback of shortstop the left fielder was running in as fast as he might. Andwhile he ran Fearing and Beeton were flying around the bases. The ball cameto earth, was gathered up on its first bound and sped toward the plate. Butit reached the catcher too late, for Fearing and Beeton had tallied. Anddown at second a small youth was picking himself out of the dust. ButSatterlee never got any farther, for the next man struck out. No one seemedto care, however, except Satterlee, for the score had changed to 6-4, andthe 6 was Willard's!But there was still a half inning to play and Durham had not lost hope. Hercenter fielder opened up with a hit and a moment later stole second. Thencame a mishap. Willings struck the batsman and, although Fearing claimedthat the batsman had not tried to avoid the ball, he was given his base.Things looked bad. There on second and first were Durham runners and here,stepping up to the plate with his bat grasped firmly in his hands, wasCarpenter, and there was none out. A two-base hit would surely tie thescore, while one of the home-runs of which Carpenter was believed to becapable--such a one as he made in the first game of the series--would sendWillard's into mourning.The terrace was almost deserted, for the spectators were lined along thepath to first base and beyond. Don was crying encouragement to his players,but from the way in which he moved restively about it could be seen that hewas far from easy in his mind. As for Satterlee, 2d--well, he was out incenter field, hoping for a chance to aid in warding off the defeat thatseemed inevitable, but fearing that his usefulness was over. Willingsturned and motioned the fielders back, and in obedience Satterlee, 2d,crept farther out toward the edge of the field. But presently, when a ballhad been delivered to the batsman, Satterlee, 2d, quite unconsciously,moved eagerly, anxiously in again, step by step. Then came a strike andCarpenter tapped the plate with the end of his bat and waited calmly.Another ball. Then a second strike. And for a brief moment Willard'sshouted hoarsely. And then----Then there was a sharp sound of bat meeting ball and Carpenter was on hisway to first. The ball was a low fly to short center field and it wasevident that it would land just a little way back of second base. NeitherCarpenter nor the runners on first and second dreamed for a moment that itcould be caught. The latter players raced for home as fast as their legswould take them.Meanwhile in from center sped Satterlee, 2d. He could run hard when hetried and that's what he did now. He was almost too late--but not quite.His hands found the ball a bare six inches above the turf. Coming fast ashe was he had crossed second base before he could pull himself up.From all sides came wild shouts, instructions, commands, entreaties, aconfused medley of sounds. But Satterlee, 2d, needed no coaching. Therunner from second had crossed the plate and the one from first wasrounding third at a desperate pace, head down and arms and legs twinklingthrough the dust of his flight. Now each turned and raced frantically back,dismay written on their perspiring faces. But Satterlee, 2d, like animmovable Fate, stood in the path. The runner from first slowed downindecisively, feinted to the left and tried to slip by on the other side.But the small youth with the ball was ready for him and had tagged himbefore he had passed. Then Satterlee, 2d, stepped nimbly to second base,tapped it with his foot a moment before the other runner hurled himselfupon it, tossed the ball nonchalantly toward the pitcher's box and walkedtoward the bench. The game was over.But he never reached the bench that day. On the way around the field hecaught once a fleeting vision of Brother Don's red, grinning countenancebeaming commendation, and once a glimpse of the smiling faces of his fatherand mother. He strove to wave a hand toward the latter, but as it almostcost him his position on the shoulders of the shrieking fellows beneath, hegave it up. Social amenities might wait; at present he was tasting the joysof a victorious Caesar.
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