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PLOT FOR THE PENNANT
BY HUGH S. FULLEPTON .
Copyright. 1H1S. hy the Ht»r Company.
CHAPTER I.
Pantheri or Scare t
T HE defeat In the opening same of the
final series of the season between the
Panthers and Bears had been a hard
blow to the championship hopes of the Bears,
and its effect was evident in the demeanor of
the players and those associated with them.
It was the second week in Sepetmber. Since
early In May the Blues, the Panthers and the
Bears, conceded to be the three strongest
teams In the league, had struggled day by day
almost upon even terms, first one team leading
by a narrow margin, then another, until the In
terest of the entire population of the country
was centred upon the battle for supremacy.
Then, with the Blues holding the lead by the
narrowest of margins, Maloney, their premier
pitcher, strained his arm. and the Blues, In de
spair, battled the harder only to overtax the
strength of the remaining pitchers, so that the
team slumped rapidly Into third place, still
fighting gamely to keep close to the flying
leaders and hoping against hope to get their
crippled pitching staff back Into condition for
the flnisb.
It was the consensus of opinion of the fol
lowers of the sport that the four-game series
between the Bears and Panthers probably
would prove the crisis of the year’s efforts, and
decide the Question of supremacy. On the eve
of the commencement of that series the Bear
hopes had received a shock. Carson, the heav
iest batter, the speediest base runner and one
of the most brilliant outfielders in the league,
bad fractured a leg in sliding to a base, and
wab crippled so seriously that all hope of his
recovery in time to play again that year was
abandoned. For two days prior to the opening
of the crucial series with the Panthers the
Bears had kept the seriousness of Carson's in
jury a secret, knowing that announcement of
the true condition of the player would give
Hartman, manager of the Panthers, additional
advantage in knowing bow best to use his
pitchers-
Then, following vague whisperings, It was
announced that Carson's leg was badly frac
tured. The admission of this truth c&me as a
shock to those who had wagered heavily upon
the Bears to win, and following that came com
plaints and charges that a favored few among
the professional gamblers who had attached
themselves, leachlike, to baseball had received
earlier information, and that they had profited
by it to wager heavily that the Panthers would
win, securing advantage of the odds.
Until the day Che news that Carson could not
play again during the season became public
the Bears had been favorites, but with their
hardest batter crippled, and Holleran, the sub
stitute, lytown to be weak against curve pitch
ing, and, in addition, a poor thrower, their
hope seemed destroyed. The odds changed in
stantly. There was a scandal brewing that
aroused the league officials and the club own
ers, while the newspapers demanded a thor
ough investigation. Manager William Clancy,
of the Bears, his kindly, weather-beaten face
wearing a troubled expression, in place of his
customary cheerful grin, was Investigating.
The defeat of the Bears in the first game with
the Panthers had revealed to all the vital
weakness of the holders of the championship,
and Clancy, as he sat nibbling the the end of his
penholder In the writing room of the hotel at
which he and his team were stopping, faced a,
discouraging situation.
Across the table from him a slender girl, at
tired in a close fitting street gown, was writing
rapidly, covering many sheets of hotel station
ery with tall, angular hieroglyphics ab she de
tailed to her dearest friend at home the excit
ing events of the day.
"Betty," said Manager Clancy, looking up, “if
you and Ellen are ever going to gefready you'll
have to start."
“I’m ready now, Mr. Clancy,” the girl re
sponded, brightly, lifting her bowed head until
she revealed the perfect curve of her firm chin,
and smiled, "1 left Mother Clancy in the rooms
sewing on some buttons. She will be ready
soon.”
At that moment a slender youth, easy in
movement, almost graceful in his confident
carriages, entered the hotel lobby. Something
in his bearing gave evidence that he was ac
customed to association with persons of breed
ing and refinement. His closely cropped, curl
ing hair, sandy to the point of redness, At
tracted attention to his well-formed head, set
well upon a pair of shoulders so wide as to give
him the appearance of strength, in spite of
the slenderness of his waist and the lightness
of his body, yis fare was freckled and the
uptilt of his nose added to the friendly impres
sion created by his blue eyes. His clothes were
almost threadbare and his shoes were worn,
but his linen was clean and his appearance
neat He seemed unconscious of any contrast
of his raiment with the rather flashy but cost
ly garments worn by some of the Bears who
lounged in the lobby. The youth hesitated,
glancing from group to group of the players,
as if trying to decide which one to approach.
‘‘Silent-” Swanson, the giant shortstop, who
had earned his nickname because he was the
noisiest player on the field, was standing talk
ing with "Noisy” Norton, the second baseman,
so called because he seldom spoke either on or
off the field, and Adonis Williams, the star
left-handed pitcher of the team. The newcom
er's eyes fell upon this group, and his face
lighted as he observed that Williams’ hair was
only a shade darker than his own. As if de
ciding quickly, he walked toward the group.
~'-ju are Williams, are you not?" he in
quired easily, smiling in a friendly manner.
"That's my name, but most people add a
mister to it," responded Williams, eyeing him
from head to foot half sneeringly
The red-haired youth flushed a trifle, and
the smile died out of his eyes.
“I beg pardon. Mister Williams," he said,
quietly; "I was‘seeking Manager Clancy. Per
haps you can tell me where to find him?"
"It isn't very hard to find Clancy ” responded
Williams, in the tone used by him in repulsing
the advances of the fanatics who claim ac
quaintanceship with ballplayers. "We can't
lose him "
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to point
him out to me. I never have had the pleas
ure of meeting Mr. Clancy.”
Neither o! them had observed that Swanson
and Norton had drawn aside to permit the girl
who had been in the writing room to pass on
her way to the elevator. Evidently she over
heard the youth's inquiry, for she hesitated
Just as Williams laughed in an ugly mann -r
and said
"If ycu don't know him you d bette. peddle
vomsfclf somewhere else He won't be in a
mood to talk to hoboes to-night.”
Before the slender youth could speak, the
girl, flushed with Indignation, stepped forward
and said quietly:
"Pardon me, but I overheard you inquiring
for Manager Clancy. He is in the writing
room."
Her brown eyes flashed with anger, her lips
were set tight and her sun-browned cheeks
flushed as she passed quickly on toward the
elevator, not waiting to respond to the thanks
of the slender youth, who had removed his hat
quickly to utter his gratitude. For an instant
he stood staring after the slender girl as she
disappeared into the elevator car without a
backward glance. Then, turning toward Wil
liams, who stood flushed and angry, his blue
eyes narrowed and he said:
“Just for that, I’ll kick you on the shins in
the club house and dare you to fight.”
“What? You will, huh?” spluttered the as
tounded pitcher.
He would have said more, but before he
could recover from the double shock of the
girl's rebuke of his surliness and the man’s
quiet, scornful threat, the newcomer, smiling
oddly, turned and walked toward the writing
room and held out his hand to the famous
Clancy, for six years leader of the Bears.
“Who's your friend, Adonis?" Inquired Swan
son, grinning at the angry pitcher.
“Some fresh busher, I guess,” snarled Will
iams, angrily. “Got sore because I didn’t want
to steer him onto Bill I gurffis he’s joining the
team.”
‘‘I heard him say he would be in the club
house,” responded Swanson, with grinning sar
casm
"I’ll take some of the freshness out of him,”
threatened Williams.
“Seems to me you had It coming,” retorted
Swanson, as he turned to Join Norton.
The slender youth stood with ex
tended hand while Manager Clancy
gazed up interrogatively from his
writing.
"Mr. Clancy?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes. Sit down,” responded Clancy,
his Intention of rebuffing the intru
der changing as he saw the smile.
“What can 1 do for you?”
‘‘I read in the evening papers,"
replied the youth, still smiling easily,
“that Carson broke a leg, and that,
to win the pennant, you must find
an outfielder who can hit."
"Perhaps you also read that I'd
like to find a diamond about the
size of my bend?” responded Clancy
in a half indignant attepipt at sar
casm.
‘‘The paper also said that you
might switch Pardridge from third
base to the outfields If you could find
a hard-hitting infielder.” The caller
was unruffled and the smile remained
in the blue eyes.
"Possibly the paper also said that
if I found the diamond I’d move my
gold mine to make room for It?"
Clancy evidently intended to say
more in the same sarcastic vein he
used in dealing with his players, but
he restrained himself from further
comment, feeling vaguely uncertain
because of the quiet confidence of
his visitor.
There was a pause, the veteran
manager studying his^ caller as if
puzzled, and the slender youth sat
smiling and entirely at his ease, as
if expecting Clancy to resume the
conversation.
“Well?” said Clancy, glancing at
half-finished letter as If to hint that
his time was entirely too valuable
to be wasted discussing academic
impossibilities with entire strangers.
"Well,” replied the visitor, smil
ing. “I’m it.”
“You’re what?” asked the astonish
ed manager.
"The third baseman who can hit.”
“When shall I move the gold
mine?” Clancy’s voice was danger
ously quiet, the calm that usually
preceded his storms of wrath.
“To-morrow, if you like."
Clancy sat gazing at his visitor
as if undecided as to whether he
should explode in wrath, laugh at
some Joke too deep for him, or be
lieve the slender youth was in earn
est.
"Say, kid,” he said slowly after
studying the youth for a moment, I
admire your nerve, anyhow. If you
have half the confidence in a ball
good name and It fits your eyes and hair ”
“I cant' tell you how grateful I am,” said the
boy impetuously. “I’ll make good for you I’ve
failed trying to make a living. Baseball is the
only-thing they taught me at college that I’m
good at, and when I read that you needed a
third baseman I”
“College man, eh?” asked Clancy quickly.
"Well, I won’t hold that against you or tip it
off. Don’t thank me. If you make good I’ll be
the one to give thanks.”
The youth turned to follow the secretary as
if to hide a little mist that came into his eyes,
and he left Manager Clancy gazing thought
fully after him and nibbling the end of his pen
holder.
"It would be a miracle,” said Clancy to him
self. “But I’ve got a hunch it will come true.
He’s bred right—tell It from hlg looks. He’s
game, light on his feet; good shoulders, and—
a °d—and a pair of eyes.”
He frowned less than he had done in two
days as he resumed his letter-writing
CHAPTER II.
A Miracle Called McCarthy.
Thirty thousand persons, banked in the great
triple-decked steel grandstands and massed in
the field seats, roared with increasing excite
ment as from every direction solid streams of
humanity poured toward the park to witness
the second game of the series between the
Bears and the Panthers.
The batting practise of the teams had ended
and the Bears trotted out upon the field, which
was freshly lined with whitewash, showing
clean against the green of the newly cropped
grass.
The game went against the Bears from the
start, the break of the luck seeming always to
favor the Panthers. The Bears were hitting
hard and threatening to score, yet it happened
that at the critical times, when the hit was most
needed, Holleran was at bat. Twice, with run
ners perched on second and third, Holleran
had hit feeble grounders to the infield, one re
sulting in a runner being caught at the home
plate and one in an easy out at first that fin
ished an inning in which the "Bears had threat
ened to amass a half dozen runs.
The seventh Inning started with the Panthers
leading 3 to 1, and the Bears seemingly beaten
beyond hope of recovery. An error, followed
quickly by a base on balls and a successful
sacrifice bunt put Bear runners on second and
third baBes with but one out and Holleran
coming to the bat Holleran was half-way to
the batter’s position when Clancy signalled
him, and an instant later Umpire Maxwell
turned and announced:
“McCarthy batting for Holleran. McCarthy
will play third base, Pardridge in left field.”
“That's that red headed bird,” remarked
"Chuckle” Rice in the press box. “Well, he
can’t be much worse in a pinch than Holleran.
Say, that fellow Holleran must be a cubist. He
can’t see a curve."
McCarthy came to the batter’s box quickly,
swinging a long, light bat borrowed from Swan
son, the shortstop. He let a fast ball cut
across the plate just at his shoulders and only
glanced inquiringly at the umpire when it was
called a strike. The next onq was a quick
breaking curve, seemingly coming straight at
him. He stepped slightly forward, snapped
the long bat against the ball and drove It down
the left field foul line; two runners sprinted
across the plate, and the score was tied.
“That auburn baby can hit them curves,"
commented Rice. “He certainly called the
turn and waded into that one.”
game that you have off It you'll be Before the Slender Youth Could Speak, the Girl, Flushed with Indignation, Stepped Forward and
a wonder. Where did you ever play
ball?"
A troubled expression came over
the boy's facte.
"Mr. Clancy," he said, quietly, “If you take
me you'll have to do it without asking ques
tions. You’ll have to take my records on faith
I can play ball, and it’s up to tne to make good
at something. All 1 ask is a chance to
prove to you I can play. It will not cost you a
cent to find out."
In spite of the confidence of his bearing and
his self assurance a note of anxiety had crept
into the voice of the youth, and the blue eyes
seemed troubled. Clancy was watching him
closely.
“Done anything?" he asked, sharply.
“Criminal? No," responded the boy. flushing.
‘Ever signed a professional contract?”
“No.”
Clancy studied him for a full minute as if
trying to decide what to do. Then, raising his
voice, he called:
"Oh, Sed. Come here a minute.”
A tall man, his hair gray, his face wearing a
frown of perpetual worry, came from the hotel
lobby.
"Mr Tabor," said Clancy, without rising,
“this is Mr. Jimmy McCarthy, who is to have a
try-out with us at third base. Room him with
the players. You aren't stopping anywhere
else, are you?”
The last question was directed to the sur
prised youth.
“No—I’m broke,” answered the youth, flush
ing quickly.
“I’ll fix you up in a moment,” said the secre
tary in friendly tones as he shook hands with
the youth. “Please wait until I finish settling
up with the baggage man?”
The secretary hastened from the room, and
the boy turned impulsively to the manager.
“Mr. Clancy,” he said in a tone of gratitude,
“I want to thank you—I don't know how. I
was broke—ball playing is about all I’m good
at. How did you know 1 didn't want to use
my own name?"
"I figured you might want to forget it for a
time anyhow,” said Clancy. "McCarthy is a
Said Quietly: “Pardon me, but I overheard you inquiring for Manager
Clancy. He is in the Writing room.’
“Who is that red headed bird practising out
there at third?” inquired “Chucky” Rice, the
veteran reporter of the Panthers.
“Name is McCarthy, a busher Clancy picked
up somewhere. He is to have a trial this Fall-
after the pennant fight is over,” said Koerner,
of the Globe, who travelled w-ith the Bears.
“Books pretty sweet on ground balls,” com
mented Rice, watching the slender, graceful
athlete, who was occupying Pardridge’s place
at third base. “Where did Clancy find him
Tech?”
The question was addressed to “Technicali
ties" Feehan, the odd little reporter who had
traveled with the Bears for twenty years.
“I have not been informed,” responded Fee
han, adjusting his glasses and watching Mc
Carthy closely. "He came to the hotel last
night and asked for a tryout. Did vou see him
hit?"
“Yes,” replied Rice. "Hits right handed and
he cracked two on the nose. Will he play?”
"Clancy hardly will take a chance with him
at this stage,” replied Koerner.
McCarthy tossed his glove to the veteran
third baseman and ran toward the plate to bat
grounders to the in fielders. He was not aware
of the fact, but Clancy had been watching him
keenly during the entire practise and had asked
Kennedy, the star catcher, to keep an eye on
the recruit and report how he liked his actions.
"Handles himself like a ball player,” com
mented the catcher. “He hit a curve ball with
a snap swing that had a lot of drive in it and
he gets the ball away like a flash when it hits
his hands.”
“He takes things easily,” said the manager.
’I haven't seen him fight a ball yet Blocks it
down and recovers in plenty of time. If this
game didn't mean so much”
The bell rang for the Panthers to take their
fielding practise and during the interval of se
lecting bats McCarthy felt, from the attitude
of the other players toward him, that he had
suddenly risen in their estimation.
The game went into the ninth, then the
tenth, the pitchers working harder and harder
and the teams batting behind them without a
break to bring the victory that meant so much
to them. The excitement in the big crowd in
creased inning after inning, and when the
eleventh started the spectators were in a
furore of expectation
Jimmy McCarthy was the first batter for the
Bears. From an unknown recruit he had be
come the sensation of the game, and thousands
were asking who he was. Twice he had hit
Cooke’s fast “hook curve,” and hit it hard, and
Cooke, remembering, shook his head as his
catcher signalled for another curve. The re
cruit watched him, and, with a sudden jerk of
his belt, he stepped into position. The first
ball was fast and across his shoulders, as
Cooke had placed it twice before. This time
instead of taking the first strike McCarthy
met the ball squarely and drove it on the line
over the first baseman's head. He turned first
base, going at top speed, although already Mc-
Keever, the Panther’s right fielder, known as
one of the greatest throwers in the league, was
in position to field the ball.
The roar of surprise, exultation, hope and
fear that arose from the crowd was chopped
short as McCarthy sprinted for second, and
above the sudden silence a chorus of shrill
feminine screams arose. An instant of tense
uncertainty was followed by a swelling mur
mur of protest, disappointment and rage, while
down in front of the great stands a small
group, standing upon chairs, waving hats and
handkerchiefs, and cheering wildly, revealed
the fact that the loyal Bear rooters were pres
ent, and that the play had been decided in
their favor.
From the dust cloud just commencing to
settle around second base two forms were
emerging, and, as the dust drifted away, the
crowd had a glimpse of a tableau. Tommy
Meegher, second baseman of the Panthers,
was disentangling his stocky form from the
tangle of arms and legs, and arising from the
prostrate body of McCarthy, whose desperate
slide had turned a base hit into a two-bagger.
Stooping over them, his hands outspread, sig
nifying that the runner had reached the base
in safety, was Randy Ransom, crouching, in
order better to see under the dust cloud
raised by the hurtling bodies of the players.
A salvo of grudging applause greeted Mc
Carthy as he arose and brushed the dust from
his gray striped travelling uniform, an out
burst - that was followed by a frenzied spasm
of enthusiasm from the Bear followers. Tom
my Meegher threw the ball angrily against
the ground, picked it up quickly as the umpire
glanced threateningly toward him, and tossed
it to Jimmy Cooke, the pitcher
"Never mind Cookie, old scout,” he yelled
encouragingly; "we had him a foot That hit
was an accident. This busher shut his eyes
and hit it. They won’t get another hit in a
week.”
On the Bears’ bench Manager Clancy grinned
for the first time in three days.
“I believe that bid will do,” he said to Ken
nedy, who sat next to him on the bench. "He
called the turn on that fast ball, just met it,
and turned first on his stride. He slid under
Meegher clean. Lay one down now,” he added,
addressing the order to Norton, w - ho was se^
Iecting a bat from the row in front of the
bench.
The skill of Noisy Norton a3 a sacrifice hit-
ter was well known to the spectators in the
stands, but better known to the tense, anx-
^ rS ot the Panthers, who crouched,
K. J( -Vl hmK b's every morion as he came to the
batter s position. Norton stepped Into position,
shortened his hold upon the bat and glanced
position a n r f 0Un V he infield as if noting the
position of each man. Suddenly he started,
ward the p Pr S u and danced hurriedly to-
had been ?r arS • bench - Manager Clancy, who
n frowning worriedly, grinned quicklv
then nodded his head affirmatively
ana again Norton crouched, shorten
ing his grip upon the bat still more,
and slowly churned the inoffensive
air with it. The Panther inflelders,
alert to detect the plan of attack to
he tried by the Bears, had caught
he rapid exchange of glances, and
they crept a step or two closer to the
batter, poising ready to leap forward
to Held any ball pushed toward them
from Norton’s bat.
The plan of assault to be tried
seemed clear to the thousands of
spectators. Rice, vetefan of two
thousand games, muttered somethiqg
about “the old gag,” and prepared
to score a sacrifice. It appeared cer
tain that a sacrifice bunt was to be
attempted; that the third baseman
of the Panthers was to pretend to
field the ball, but that, instead, he
would return to third base the mo
ment Norton bunted, permitting
Cooke, the pitcher, to try to reach
the ball in time to throw to third
to catch McCarthy there, instead of
throwing to first to retire Norton.
The second baseman and short stop
of the Panthers were jockeying, pre
tending they were striving to reach
the bag in time to take the throw
from Cooke and trap • McCarthy off
the base. In reality, the object of
their movements was to prevent the
runner from gaining an extra foot
or two start toward third as the
ball was pitched.
Cooke pitched fast and straight
over the plate, Intending to make
Norton push the ball back to him, or
into the air for a fly out Norton,
however, struck viciously, but with
out making an effort to hit the ball,
swinging his bat in order to handi
cap the catcher In his effort to
catch the ball and make a throw.
McCarthy had started at full speed
the instant Cooke had commenced
to wind up to pitch the ball, and
was in full fight toward as a cry of
catcher. Before Nixon's throw, de
layed and hampered by Norton's
tactics in striking, reached third, Mc
Carthy slid behind the base, his feet
outstretched to hook the bag as he
threw his body outward to prevent
Randall, the third baseman from ex
ercising his deadly skill in blocking
runners away from the base.
A wild roar of anger, mingled with
applause, greeted the recruit’s second
daring feat as McCarthy arose from
the dust and glanced toward the
stands, now seething with noise and
excitement.
A moment later Norton drove a
long fly to the outfield, and McCarthy,
waiting until it was caught, sprinted
across the pla.te with what proved
to be the winning run.
"Crossed—and by a busher,” lamented Kin
caid of the Panthers as the teams started
off the field after the finish of the game, walk
ing slowly because of the press of humanity
overflowing from the stands.
"What do you think of that kid, Slats?” in
quired Manager Clancy, the manager of the
Panthers, as they walked together toward the
club house.
"He's a ball player, If he don’t swell,” re
sponded Hartman laconically. “He pull’d that
steal of third wise. He figured we wouldn't ex
pect a busher to try to steal at that stage—
and we didn’t. He’s a wise head for a kid.”
“Looks good to me,” replied Clancy. “He
slipped Norton a signal not to hit, but to let
him steal—and I almost fell off the bench when
I saw it. I expected him to toss the game
away.”
"Where’d you get him?” demanded Hartman.
"He wished himself onto me,” grinned Clancy.
“He told me he could play ball and I believed
him."
The lobby of the hotel at which the Bears
stopped presented a different scene that eve
ning. Confidence, renewed by the victory, was
revealed in every action. A swarm of report
ers descended upon the headquarters of the
visiting team, striving to discover something
of the history and antecedents of the slender,
red-haired youngster w'hose coming had re
vived the w-aning pennant hopes of the Bears.
McCarthy was not to be found. He had slipped
away after dinner without telling anyone his
plans. The reporters, anxious to secure an in
terview with and a photograph of the boy who
had won the game, hunted for him in vain
and then descended upon Manager Clancy, de
manding information concerning his find.
“It’s a secret, boys,” responded Clancy to
their insistent questions. "He is nom de plume
and habeas corpus. The only place I ever
heard of him playing ball was in Cognito.”
"Suppress the comedy and ease us the le
git,” pleaded Riley, who wrote theatricals when
he was not inventing English in the interest of
baseball. “I can’t find any record that will fit
him.”
"Boys,” said the veteran manager, growing
serious, "I don’t know a thing more about him
than you do. I don’t know where he ever
played; it never was in organized ball, or I
w'ould know it. I would know where he comes
from or who he is. He strolled in here last
night, told me he could play ball and wanted a
chance to show me thaUhe could.”
"That was considerable demonstration to
day,” commented Rice. "How do you know he’s
square?"
“By looking at him,” replied Clancy steadily.
“If I needed any more evidence, he was offered
1500 to sign a Panther /contract after to-day’s
game and told them he‘d stick to me—and we
haven't even talked about salary."
“What’ll we call him?" asked one reporter.
“Say,” replied Clancy, enthusiastically, “I
dreamed last night that I had found a pot of
gold wrapped up In a million-dollar bill, with
a diamond as big as my hand on top of it Call .
him Kohinoor.”
So Kohinoor McCarthy sprang into fame In
a day, as the most timely find of the baseball
season and the mystery of the league.
CHAPTER FTI.
Hope for the Bean.
The Bears were Joyous again. They scuffled,
joked, laughed and romped Joyously as the
team gathered in the railway station, where
their special cars were waiting for them to
make a hurried departure for the city of the
Pilgrims on the evening after the final game
of the series with the Panthers. Three vic
tories out of four games played with the
Panthers instead of the dreaded three defeats
had lifted the Bears back practically to even
terms with their rivals. All they had hoped
for after the injury of Carson was to divide
the series with the Panthers, and it was due
to the sudden appearance of Kohinoor Mc
Carthy that the victories were made possible.
McCarthy suddenly found himself one of the
most advertised players in the country; his
sensational playing in the three games, the
fact that he came just at the crucial hour, un
heralded, and, above all, the mystery sur
rounding him drew attention to the young
player.
All the notoriety that suddenly was thrust
upon McCarthy had failed to affect him, al
though Manager Clancy watched his “find”
anxiously, and pleaded with the newspaper
men not to spoil him. No trace of the dreaded
affliction known as “swelled head” had re
vealed Itself, and because McCarthy was able
to laugh over the wild stories printed con
cerning him, Clancy breathed more easily and
hoped for the best.
The Bears, for a week a grumbling and wor
ried aggregation of athletes, were themselves
again; buoyant, full of hope and in high spirits
that bubbled forth in almost childish horse
play as they gathered to catch their train for
the final long trip of the season. The team, as
Kirtland, the eccentric veteran outfielder, re
marked, had regained “the old oon-fee-di-ence."
The spirit to fight and to win had returned,
and Manager Clancy smiled quietly as he
watched the horseplay and the rough joking
that bespoke minds free from care. He, bet
ter than the others, understood that the sud
den renewal of confidence after it has been
shaken is better than hope unbroken, and he
knew that his team was in better condition
to face the gruelling days of the finish than it
would have been had It never felt the dis
couragement and bitterness of surrender to ill-
luck. It was a team that had “quit” and
“come again,” and such teams, as those in
baseball know, are as hard to beat as is a
regiment that has broken and rallied to re
deem its honor.
During all the joyous celebration McCarthy,
w T ho had made it possible, stood apart from
the others, feeling a little lonely. He did not
understand that a team that has played to
gether for several seasons becomes like a
big family, and that no matter how well they
may like a newcomer, he must needs disturb
the settled order of things. McCarthy stood
watching them, smiling quietly at their antics
with a feeling that he was an Intruder. The
truth was, however, that the Bears had wel
comed him from the start. He had won their
admiration on the field and the undying friend-
ship of Silent Swanson by his conduct In the
clubhouse on the afternoon after the close of
his first game. It was that incident that made
for him a chum and an enemy, who were
destined to play a big part in his career
When the players raced off the field after
that victory, striving, some of them in vain
to escape being engulfed in the torrent of hu
manity that poured from the stands, McCar-
Lv»H Wa Vs U8h u’ w,th a f6W oth ers. and de-
sowo M hen he reached the clubhouse the
were U « te i S al" 1 th ® reserve Pitchers already
were splashing and spluttering under the
damTJed a ?M °, n ,be tablpa ‘he lame and the
Inr nSr a e e S la J Kroanina " n d complain-
ing under the hands of rubbers who were
working upon their sore muscles. McCarthy
where A thP drPssln K mom to
the waUt w Wi ” lan ? 3 ' a,read-v ^riPPed to
and wrihe . hrepering to take his shower,
the shins a h6 kickpd the Pitcher on
the shins, a mere rap, but administered so as
tojeave no doubt as to its purpose
H . er e—- What did yo u do that for?” de
manded Williams, turning upon him with a
roar of surprise and anger.
me 1 th°if h ° te1 ’ when YOU insulted
*£ at 1 d do it- wi *l you fight?”
*nl C , C r r H y ’\f'" e , fyes had Krown narrower.
anda oolder blue tint carqe into them.
III break you in pieces, you .
you-’' Williams spluttered with rage
r a r?hv P that talk and fight.” challenged Me
° Wf y '.u tePP ,, ng J nt0 a hghting attitude.
Just then McCarthy received help from an
unexpected source. Swanson, the giant o” the
th b a°^ e tbrough the circle of players
riuU had formed in expectation of seeing a
I ou re all right, bo," he roared, throwing
his huge arm around the shoulders of the r*
Y ° u re P erfec tly all right, but he won't
fight you/’
“I’ll smash’*
“Naw, you won’t, Adonis,” said the giant,
contemptuously. “I think he can lick you,
anyhow, but you had it coming. Now kick
his other shin, and after that Adonis will apol-
ogize.
(To be continued next Sunday)
T
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