Читать книгу Jimmy Kirkland of the Cascade College Team - Hugh Stuart Fullerton - Страница 5

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Larry Kirkland, hot and rebellious from the rebuff inflicted upon him and Katsura by Coach Haxton, made matters worse during the next few days by discussing with several of his classmen the treatment accorded him. The hurt rankled. He had been accustomed to attempting, at least, to treat with fairness the boys who had played ball with him. He had tried, after he had cooled from his first anger, to look upon the matter from the viewpoint of the coach. He did not blame Haxton for ordering him from the field. The point he made was that Haxton himself had been inclined to pass over the infringement of rules, until he discovered who Larry was. Then he had showered insult upon him and that without cause.

Larry found that many of the undergraduates sympathized with him and several who had been witnesses of the rebuke, came to him with their own stories of Haxton’s injustice. Had he been willing to let the matter drop there, perhaps all would have been well; but the sympathy of others served to increase Larry’s bitterness. He enlarged unconsciously upon his wrong, and held forth that it was no use for him to attempt to enter athletics since the coach was under the influence of the wealthier fellows.

One afternoon Larry, with some of his Freshman sympathizers, was sitting under a tree on the campus, talking over the downfall of the baseball team, and the sporting department generally, when “Paw” Lattiser stopped, gazed over his glasses at the boys and calmly seated himself among them.

Lattiser was one of the notable figures of the school, a Senior and leader of the student body. He was a quiet, whimsical fellow, slow of speech, continually sucking away at an old pipe and strolling around the walks, studying as he walked and smoked. He was past thirty-five years of age, and according to the campus version, he had toiled in the lumber camps, worked as deck hand on a lumber schooner, and, when he finally had saved enough to carry him through college, had taken up his long-delayed education. He was two years getting out of Freshman class, but after that, by steady work and grinding, he held with his class, and had become one of the honor men. He was the advisor of the youngsters, the counselor of the Seniors, and was held in high esteem by the faculty. He looked over the top of his glasses at Larry, who suddenly became confused and stopped talking.

“Thought I heard you say something about the team, Kirkland,” said Lattiser. “Go on; I’m interested.”

“I was just saying,” replied Larry, somewhat taken aback by the manner of the big, loose-jointed student, “that it is no use for me to try for any team. Baldwin has told some yarn about me and has prejudiced them against me.”

“Imagination, plus enlarged ego,” commented Lattiser. “Baldwin says something, you make a fool of yourself and add evidence to his charge. You brood until you think everyone is against you. You kick because a small faction is unjust and accuse everyone.”

“Anyhow,” argued Larry, “he makes it impossible for me to get a chance. Baldwin seems to run athletics, and I’m not foolish enough to give him a chance to order me off the field.”

“You have the interests of the school at heart, I suppose?” inquired Lattiser quietly. “Or your own ambitions?”

“I didn’t intend to try for the team at all,” protested Larry, hurt by the insinuation.

“If you did not want to play,” retorted Lattiser, in his quiet drawl, “you wouldn’t care. If you had the interest of the school in mind, you would overlook any slight placed upon you, for the sake of the college.”

“I’m perfectly willing to sacrifice myself,” mumbled Larry, sulkily. “All I want is a chance.”

“You have a chance,” said Lattiser. “If you youngsters want to do something for this school, there is a big chance. You organize a class team, and develop players who can be ready to play for the college at any time.”

He arose, lighted his pipe, and smiled at their expressions.

“If conditions are as you say,” he said easily, “they cannot last—and you’ll be ready.”

“Let’s do it,” suggested Katsura. “Let’s organize a Freshman team, that will play good ball. In two years we can have our chance, anyhow.”

“Two years?” ejaculated Larry. “Why not get up a team, practice hard, and then challenge the Varsity and beat it?”

“Yes, yes,” cried several of the boys.

“No, that would be wrong,” remarked Katsura. “Even if we could, which I doubt, we are for the school, and ought not to belittle the team that represents it.”

“I think Katty is right,” remarked Larry thoughtfully. “That was what good old Paw was driving at.”

“Anyhow, let’s see the captain of the Freshman team and ask him if he wants us as recruits.”

“Who’ll we play?” objected one youth. “What’s the use of wasting our time practicing if we are not to have games.”

“We can play the other class teams and get a reputation for ourselves,” replied Larry. “Besides, it would be sport to take some of the pride out of those Sophs, especially Baldwin.”

“Remember what Mr. Lattiser said about forgetting yourself?” asked Katsura mischievously.

“By George, he’s right too,” responded Larry irritated. “I can’t seem to forget myself. Come on, let’s find Arries.”

The five boys found Arries, the Freshman captain sitting on a bench on the campus, digging away at mathematics.

“Hello,” he said, responding to their greetings. “Glad to meet you all. I’ve seen you around.”

“We came about the baseball team,” said Larry, after waiting for some of the others to act as spokesman. “We wanted to offer our services. How is the team?”

“Well,” replied Arries gravely, as he laid down his book, “we have a catcher, big Winans; and one of our infielders once stopped a ball. There is a tradition that one of the outfielders once caught a fly. They made me captain because I’m so near sighted I can’t see the ball until the catcher holds it up close to my eyes.”

The boys laughed at the captain’s fantastic description of his team.

“We wondered if you could use us,” said Larry. “Katsura is a good pitcher, good enough for the Varsity team. All of us have played more or less ball, and we want to play if you need us.”

“Need you?” exclaimed Arries, arising and shaking their hands. “Why we need everything excepting a catcher. Winans is the only one on the team who can catch the ferry. We played the Juniors and were lucky to escape alive. They licked us 26 to 2, and it would have been worse if darkness hadn’t interfered.”

“When do we play the Sophs?” inquired Hagstrom. “We ought to be practicing for that, oughtn’t we?”

“I believe the game is in two weeks,” said Arries. “Haven’t paid much attention to it since the late unpleasantness with the Juniors. Fact is, no one else has. It discouraged us.”

“But you are captain,” protested Larry. “Why don’t you call the team together and we’ll practice.”

“I intended to,” replied Arries carelessly. “Fact is, though, I got so far behind in studies I forgot, and then I lost the list of players. You fellows do as you please.”

“Aren’t you going to practice?” inquired Larry half indignantly.

“I? I should say not,” retorted the captain. “Too busy. Besides, we only play for fun, and it’s hard work to practice. Too hot.”

“If you will tell us who the catcher is we’ll find him,” suggested Katsura.

“He’s that big fellow from Bakersfield,” replied the captain rising. “Takes everything in earnest. I’ll have to go to class now. Thank you fellows for coming to my assistance.”

“No wonder they get beaten,” laughed Larry, as Arries strolled away. “Let’s hunt Winans. Katty and a catcher ought to beat all that kind of team without help.”

Winans, they found, was a large, slow-speaking, quick-moving youth. He looked slow, and the ease with which he moved made him appear lazy. The boys found him quite the opposite.

“I’m glad some one in this class wants to play real ball,” he said when they had stated their purpose. “Arries only asked the fellows he happened to know to join the team, and most of them forgot about it. I had to find a few to fill in the game we played, and that was a nightmare. If you fellows want to hustle, I’m with you.”

The following week was a busy one. Winans roomed in a house only a block from the one in which Larry Kirkland had taken up his abode, and two other Freshmen were in the same house. Instead of reporting for practice at the athletic field, the Freshmen decided they could get better results by taking simple practice in the big yard behind the boarding house. Each evening they played until it was too dark to see the ball. With Katsura pitching better and better, and three of the boys able to play fairly well, Larry, who by common consent had been made the leader, felt that for a class team, it would do well, especially as Winans rapidly learned to work well with the diminutive pitcher. It was hard to get nine Freshmen to practice, but usually Larry had six or seven each evening, and as the day of the contest approached he felt confident that his team would furnish a surprise for the Sophomores, who had three of the regular Varsity team. Also interest among the Freshmen increased as the date came near, and Winans sent a dozen volunteers, all of whom were tried out and told to be on hand.

The game was to be played on the athletic field, and after class meetings to stir up enthusiasm, both classes marched down upon the field, shouting defiance at each other, while the upper classmen gathered in the stands and bleachers, watching them with condescending smiles of amusement, and striving to stir the lower classmen up to the point of starting the annual rush.

Freshmen, however, were herded into the bleachers at one side of the field, the Sophomores into the other, and the opportunity for a rush was averted, or rather delayed.

The two teams arrayed in strange assortments of uniforms, improvised or borrowed for the occasion, practiced, and during the laughable practice of the Sophomores, Katsura walked to where Larry Kirkland was examining a bat.

“Baldwin is trying to make trouble,” he said in low tones. “Look.”

Larry looked in the direction indicated and saw Harry Baldwin in conversation with several Seniors who had assumed police and other duties. One of the Seniors, who had been chosen to umpire, nodded and walked toward the Freshman bench.

“Here, Fresh,” he called, beckoning to Larry. “And you,” he added, addressing Katsura, “what are you doing on this team?”

“We are members of the Freshman class,” they responded quickly.

“You two can’t play,” decided the Senior brusquely. “We can’t allow ringers in these games. Here,” he added, calling the Freshman captain, “you Arries, get these two ringers out and send in two others.”

“Who says we are ringers?” demanded Larry, advancing angrily upon the Senior. “We have as much right to play as any one.”

“I say so,” replied the Senior calmly. “You play too well. I’ve heard about you, and your professional training. Now scoot.”

Speechless with rage and mortification Larry advanced more threateningly. But Katsura quietly grasped his arm.

“It’s a lie,” he spluttered. “But if Baldwin runs this school I suppose I’ll have to stay out.”

“No more back talk, Freshie,” remarked the Senior. “Don’t speak that way to your superiors. Call me Sir.”

“Don’t let it fuss you, Kirkland,” said Arries mildly. “It isn’t important. It is all for fun.”

Larry, raging inwardly, turned and walked with Katsura from the field, while the Sophomores jeered. He was hot with the injustice of it and burning for revenge. He took his seat with the Freshmen and strove to watch the slaughter of the Freshmen, but before long he slipped from the crowd, and hurried away, refusing to be comforted even by the calm philosophy of Katsura, who followed.