Читать книгу Dick Merriwell's Day; Or, Iron Nerve - Burt L. Standish - Страница 4

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Tom Fernald, the Rockford manager, returned home in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. He had counted on victory, and defeat had cost him some good money. Having heard of the result at Seaslope, he also figured over the standing of the teams, and his anxiousness increased as he fully realized the critical nature of the situation. He knew enough about baseball to understand that fortune had favored Rockford in many instances, and enabled her to retain first place. At one time he had encouraged Seaslope and rejoiced in her victories over Fairhaven and Maplewood, little dreaming the team was likely to become a dangerous antagonist for first position at the end of the season.

He had felt satisfied over the success of Maplewood with a new team, being confident that Rockford would not suffer through this success. Now the complexion of things had changed greatly. The loss of two more games might push Rockford down and make an opportunity for those who had previously criticised him and his management to say, “I told you so.”

Fernald dropped off the car at the Corndike and came face to face with Brad Buckhart, of the Fairhavens, as he entered the hotel.

“How do you do, Buckhart?” he nodded. “So you had hard luck yourself, did you? It must have been a hot game. Twelve innings, was it?”

“Yes, twelve warm ones,” nodded the Texan.

“You did well to hold Seaslope down in such a manner. Didn’t think you could do it. Those fellows have a hard team to beat over there. How were the hits?”

“They made one more than we did.”

“And the errors?”

“Neither team made an error to-day.”

Fernald whistled.

“By Jove! that was a great game. What are you going to do to-morrow?”

Brad grinned.

“We’re going to do our level best to make you hump yourself, Mr. Fernald,” he replied. “We’ll have my pard in the box to-morrow, and you know what that means.”

“Then Merriwell didn’t pitch to-day?”

“No.”

“I’d like to have a little talk with you, Buckhart,” said the Rockford manager, taking Brad by the arm. “Let’s sit down over here.”

The Texan wondered why Fernald should wish to talk with him, but walked over to some chairs in a corner of the office, where they sat down quite by themselves.

“You’re a pretty good friend to Merriwell, aren’t you?” asked Fernald.

“Sure thing,” nodded Brad.

“And you’re the only catcher on the Fairhaven team?”

“I opine I am. Some of the others might go under the bat, but they don’t advertise themselves as catchers.”

“There’s no other man on the team who can hold Merriwell, is there?”

“I don’t like to get swelled up in my statements, Mr. Fernald; but I will say that Dick and I are a whole lot familiar with each other, and work pretty well together.”

The Rockford manager smiled.

“That’s right,” he confessed. “I have watched you, and you work together like machinery. Without a catcher behind the bat who knows him thoroughly and can hold him, Merriwell would not be particularly effective. Surely he couldn’t use that so-called combination ball. It would fool a catcher just as much as it fools a batter. Whatever that combination ball is, it’s a case of luck when a batter hits it fairly. Of course, I know it’s no combination rise and drop, for that’s impossible.”

“You think so,” laughed Brad. “I don’t blame you any, Mr. Fernald; but I’ll bet something some of your players will tell you it is a combined rise and drop.”

Fernald shook his head.

“I know it’s something mighty odd,” was his acknowledgment; “but reason teaches me that a ball can’t be thrown in such a manner that it will curve in one direction and reverse and curve in another. Merriwell apparently throws a rise to start with, but it’s his style of delivery that makes the ball seem to rise. He throws it with a rotary movement that finally turns it into a drop.”

“It certain appears that you’ve figured the thing out to your satisfaction; but what are you driving at?”

“It won’t make any great difference with your team if we win to-morrow,” said Fernald softly. “You will still be close enough on our heels to run us down before the season closes. It will make a big difference to me if we lose; I’ll have all the cranks in this town on my back. How would you like to make a good thing out of the game to-morrow?”

The Texan started slightly, then turned slowly and stared at his companion.

“I sure would like to make a good thing out of it,” he said, in a queer tone of voice. “That’s natural.”

“Perfectly,” nodded Fernald, fancying he had deftly secured an opening, and likewise imagining that this sturdy boy was willing to listen to a proposition. “I want to give you a pointer Buckhart. I am going to bet on the game to-morrow. There’ll be plenty of chaps ready to back your team. I am indifferent about making any money, but I don’t want to lose any.”

“It certain seems to me that you will either have to make some or lose some if you bet,” said the Westerner.

“I may win my bets without making any money.”

“I opine that’s impossible, Mr. Fernald. How can you do it?”

“Well, for instance, supposing I had it fixed with some one on your team that whatever I won should go to him in case I did win. By this I mean that if Rockford took the game I would hand over my winnings to a member of the Fairhaven team. It’s absolutely necessary, as I have explained to you, for us to stay in first position. That will be more valuable to me than any money I might win. If you can assure me that Rockford will hold her place by taking that game I will cover all the Fairhaven money that is pushed at me. You may send bettors to me and keep tabs on the amount posted. I don’t care how much is put up, as long as I stand no chance of losing.”

Brad’s left hand was lowered at his side, and he quivered a little as his fingers closed into a hard, bony fist. Although the man was not aware of it, in that moment he was in danger of being smitten by that fist.

“I reckon I understand what you mean, Mr. Fernald,” said the Texan. “You’re proposing to me that I do something to give Rockford the game?”

“There’s no need to put it thus plainly in words,” said the manager. “You are sharp enough to understand. Here is your opportunity to make a big thing. In the most natural manner you can have a passed ball at a critical point in the game. You can make bad throws to head off men stealing bases. Such things are done by the best catchers in the business. They have their yellow days. No need to excite suspicion by it. Perhaps it might not even be necessary to do anything of the sort. If Rockford had a good lead, you could play your best game and still be sure you would get the boodle when the game was over. What do you say, Buckhart? Can I depend on you?”

“See here, Mr. Fernald,” said the sturdy Texan, “I don’t like to talk this thing over any more here. There are some people round who have looked at us right sharp already. We’re attracting attention. If you will come up to room thirty-seven within ten minutes I’ll give you an answer. I want a little time to think it over. I’ll be waiting for you in that room. If you will notice, Whitney, the clerk, is watching us now. I opine I’ll move.”

Without waiting for Fernald to say whether he would come to room 37 or not, Brad rose and sauntered away.

As the Texan walked away he looked around the place searchingly. A shade of disappointment seemed to settle on his face.

“Where are the boys?” he muttered. “Some of them ought to be hanging round here.”

For a moment he stepped out in front of the hotel. Chip Jolliby was standing out there with his hands in his pockets, watching the people on the street. Instantly Buckhart seized Jolliby by the arm and began speaking to him earnestly, in a low tone.

“Great juj-juj-juj-jingoes!” gasped the tall boy, as he listened.

“Here’s the key to the door,” said Brad, thrusting a key into Jolliby’s hand. “Get a move on you. Must be plenty of witnesses.”

Then the Western youth turned back into the hotel and ascended the stairs, whistling carelessly.

Barely had Buckhart disappeared when Jolliby observed a man passing on the street. With a spring Chip grasped this man’s elbow.

“Hold on a mum-mum-mum-minute, Mr. Blackington,” stuttered the tall lad. “I wish to sus-sus-see you on important bub-business.”

“What’s that?” asked Uriah Blackington, the former manager of the Rockford team. “Why, hello, Jolliby! You look excited. Losing that game to-day at Seaslope must have disturbed you somewhat.”

“You’re sus-sus-sus-still president of the Trolley League, aren’t you?” asked Chip.

“I believe I am,” nodded the Rockford man. “I wanted to resign, but they kept me in it.”

“Have you gug-gug-got about twenty minutes to sus-sus-spare?” inquired Chip.

Blackington glanced at his handsome watch.

“Yes, forty minutes if it’s anything interesting,” he nodded. “What do you want?”

“Just cuc-cuc-come upstairs in a hurry,” urged Chip. “There’s something dud-dud-doing—something you ought to know about.”

“What is it?”

“No tut-tut-time to explain now. Pup-pup-please come.”

“Well,” laughed Blackington good-naturedly, “you seem dreadfully anxious about it, and so I’ll come. Go ahead.”

They entered the hotel and Chip glanced around in apprehension, as they ascended the stairs, fearing they would be observed. To his relief no one paid any attention to them. Jolliby led the way to the door of a room on which he knocked.

“Come in,” called a voice.

“Jingoes!” exclaimed Chip. “Didn’t know there was anybub-bub-bub-body in there! Jest thought I’d knock and fuf-fuf-fuf-find out!”

He opened the door and stepped in, followed by Blackington, whose curiosity was greatly aroused by this time.

It was Merriwell’s room they entered, and they found Dick and Ray Garrett still pondering over the figures representing the standing of the teams in the league.

“Is it you, Chip?” said Dick. “Why didn’t you come in without stopping to knock? You don’t have to knock on my door. Oh, hello! I see you have some one with you. How do you do, Mr. Blackington?”

Dick rose quickly and stepped forward to meet the president of the league, who shook hands with him cordially.

“Ain’t gug-gug-gug-got no time to chin,” said Jolliby, in a mysterious manner, holding up the key Buckhart had given him. “I want you fuf-fuf-folks to keep mighty still. Where’s that dud-dud-door lead to, Dick?”

As he asked the question he pointed to a door at one side of the room.

“That leads into the next room,” said Dick. “It’s locked.”

“Well, I think we’ll tut-tut-try this key on it,” whispered Jolliby, as he hurried toward the door.

His manner was so unusual that his companions watched him wonderingly. The key unlocked the door and Chip opened it a fraction, peering into the next room.

“All right,” he said, with satisfaction, as he pulled the door softly to, but did not close it entirely.

“Tut-tut-turn out that light, Dick. Come over here, everybody. Get close to this door and kuk-kuk-kuk-keep all-fired still. You’re gug-gug-going to hear something that’ll interest you.”

He checked their questions, and a few minutes later the quartette stood close by the door, silently waiting and listening.

Within three minutes some one entered the adjoining room. This person began to whistle, and Dick knew it was Brad Buckhart.

Less than three minutes after Brad entered that room, there came a knock on his door. On being invited to enter, the person who knocked cautiously opened the door and looked in.

It was Tom Fernald.

“Walk right in, Mr. Fernald,” invited the Texan. “You see I’m all alone here. I’m waiting for you. Thought you might wish to talk to me up here where there’s less danger of being observed or overheard.”

Fernald came in and closed the door behind him.

“What if some one should come here and find us together in this room?” he asked.

The Westerner sauntered over to the door and turned the key in the lock.

“No danger anybody will git in that way,” he smiled grimly. “Now we’re alone here, Mr. Fernald, I’m ready to listen to your proposition. I want you to make it plain so I will understand. I don’t propose to go into this thing any unless it’s fixed so there will be not the slightest misunderstanding between us.”

Brad then induced Fernald to again offer inducements to throw the game on the following day to Rockford.

“It’s a great opportunity for you to make a big thing,” said the tricky manager of the Rockford team.

“I should say so,” nodded Brad. “Why, according to that offer, if I could induce people to bet five hundred dollars, or even a thousand, on Fairhaven, and Rockford won the game, I’d get all the boodle put up to back our team.”

“I hardly think you could find five hundred dollars,” said Fernald, “although it’s possible you may. Of course, you will be able to discover people ready to bet anything from five to fifty dollars, and if you convince them it’s a sure thing Fairhaven will win there may be one or two who will risk larger sums.”

The Texan seemed to hesitate. He soberly shook his head.

“I confess I don’t like to do it,” he said. “It’s a whole lot like stealing money. If any one ever finds it out it would cook my goose. All my friends would go back on me.”

“How will any one ever find it out?” questioned Fernald. “There’s no evidence that such a bargain was made between us.”

“That sure is correct,” nodded the Texan. “And for that same reason you may go back on me some and refuse to hand the money over after you get your paws on it. I can’t make you give it up. If I tried that I’d be exposing myself. What assurance have I that you will be square with me?”

“My word!” cried Fernald. “I give you my word!”

Brad hunched his broad shoulders.

“Your word!” he exclaimed, with a short laugh. “Why, I don’t opine the word of any galoot who will put up such a job is worth a great deal.”

“Come, come, young man, don’t be insolent!” exclaimed Fernald, in annoyance. “I can’t afford to throw you down after a bargain of that sort. I have a standing to maintain here. I am taking more chances than you. If this thing should become known, and it could be proven that I entered into such a compact, I’d be dropped from the management of the Rockford team.”

“Is that right?”

“Certainly it’s right. Let me whisper something to you that I have never mentioned to any one before. Really I don’t care a rap whether Rockford wins the pennant or not, but for the present I must keep my team at the head of the league. I must do it in order to satisfy the people here who have backed the team. If I can keep Rockford at the front up to within a few days of the finish I will be well satisfied. More than that, I will agree with you now to throw two of our last games in return for this one to-morrow.”

“Why should you do that?” asked Brad, in a puzzled manner. “I don’t see how that would benefit you.”

“I will explain it. I am betting on my own team now, and I risk money for the purpose of making money. If I can keep Rockford ahead till near the finish of the season, there will be plenty of Rockford people ready to back us to win the pennant, and they’ll back us good and heavy. I’ll not let any of them suspect the game I’m playing, but I’ll have some good men ready with my money to bet that Rockford does not win the pennant. I shall bet heavily, too. Then I’ll throw the important games that will cause us to drop into second place. If your team can keep close onto our heels, you will go into first place and get the pennant. It will be a good thing for Fairhaven, as it will create enthusiasm over there and lead the islanders to put a team into the league next year. So you see, my boy, you’re not damaging your own team by entering into this agreement with me about the game to-morrow. The loss of one game now will mean your final advancement.”

Brad stood with his feet quite wide apart, and his hands on his hips, watching the crafty rascal all through this speech.

“Well, you’re sure a first-class schemer!” exclaimed the Texan. “I’ve heard before that such things happen in professional baseball, but I didn’t suppose there would be a chance for such a deal in a league like this. I opined every team in the league would be out for blood and ready to capture the pennant, if possible.”

“That’s the way it used to be in this league,” retorted Fernald; “and it was a disadvantage to the league, for Rockford had a way of always winning the pennant, and the smaller places grew discouraged. If Rockford loses this year by a game or two she’ll be right back in the league next year as fierce as ever. If Fairhaven loses, it’s likely she’ll be discouraged and won’t try it another year. So you see I’m really willing to do a generous thing.”

“Yes, a heap generous!” nodded Brad, with a touch of sarcasm he could not repress. “But do you consider it honest sport? Do you think it right to fool the backers of your team in such a manner? Without doubt some of those backers will bet their money that Rockford takes the pennant. Besides putting up their money to support the team, they’ll lose their bets at the end of the season and be mighty sore over it.”

“They are a lot of easy marks, anyhow!” snarled Fernald. “I don’t see that you’re called on to worry about them. The principal thing you care about is to come out on top, isn’t it?”

“I certain should like to see Fairhaven come out on top,” confessed Brad. “Still I am some afraid you’re inclined to fool me. Without a witness to our agreement I can’t be satisfied that you will stand by the whole of it. That being the case,” he added, walking toward the door that opened into the adjoining room, “I will just call in a witness or two.”

Having said this, he suddenly flung the door wide open.

Into the room stepped Dick Merriwell, followed by Ray Garrett.

“These yere gents are my witnesses,” said the Texan. “They’ve heard our little agreement at my invitation.” Then he paused, for Uriah Blackington followed Dick and Ray into the room, with Chip Jolliby at his heels.

The face of Blackington was like a thundercloud. He pointed an accusing finger at Fernald as he cried:

“So this is the kind of a man you are! I’ve always been inclined to think you a crook, although you’ve escaped detection until now!”

Fernald had turned pale, and for a moment or two he stood quite still, apparently thunderstruck and overcome. Suddenly he wheeled toward Buckhart, his fist clinched, and his teeth gleaming between his back-drawn lips. With the intention of striking the Texan, he made a single step.

In a twinkling Dick and Ray Garrett were between Brad and Fernald.

“Let him come! Let him come!” palpitated the Western lad. “I’ll give him his medicine good and plenty.”

“Better not raise a disturbance, Mr. Fernald,” said Dick quietly. “It’ll be a bad thing for you. A row here will cause this whole matter to come out, and if you’re not ridden on a rail and tarred and feathered after that, it will surprise me.”