Dick Merriwell's Day
Iron Nerve
9781465637376
201 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Fairhaven had fought desperately for the game at Seaslope, and three extra innings had been necessary to decide the contest; but the home club had won in the twelfth, the final score being four to three. “I told you before the game began that we were going into second place to-day!” cried Sam Hyde, addressing Dick Merriwell, captain of the Fairhavens. “Hard luck for you, but we’re out for the pennant.” “You’re not out of reach yet, are you?” retorted Dick, as he prepared to pull on his sweater. “We still have a small show, haven’t we?” “Perhaps you may finish in third position if you can hold Maplewood down,” said the Seaslope captain. “We’re going to finish at the top, and I fancy Rockford will be in second place. It’s now a fight between you and Maplewood to see which of you escape being tail-ender.” “Evidently you have it all settled—in your mind,” smiled Dick. “These things don’t always pan out the way they are planned.” “Just look over our record when you get a chance,” invited Hyde. “When you’ve considered what we’ve done, it ought to satisfy you that we’re going to swipe the pennant.” Having drawn on his sweater, Dick observed that Ray Garrett, the manager of the Fairhaven team, was looking blue and downcast. Merriwell clapped him on the shoulder and advised him to cheer up. “It’s tough!” muttered Garrett. “This game pushed us down from second position and let Seaslope head us. If Seaslope keeps up the pace it has set, Hyde is right in thinking it will win the pennant.” “You talk like a funeral!” exclaimed Dick. “Wait till we reach Rockford. We’ll figure over the standing of the teams after we get there. I think you will see they are well bunched.” The recent victories of the Seaslope team had enthused its spectators, and the game this day had been witnessed by a wonderfully large crowd. Early in the season, when Seaslope was losing steadily, it had been difficult to get out a respectable gathering of spectators. Merriwell could not help thinking of the change as he watched the well-satisfied throng pouring out at the open gate of the inclosure. At last Seaslope was making money, and Jared Whitcomb, the manager of the team, was smiling and well satisfied. “We’ve just about time enough to catch the next car for Rockford,” said Garrett, looking at his watch. “Have you picked up all the stuff, fellows? Got all the bats? Where’s the body protector? Don’t leave anything.” Carrying their bat bags and other necessary luggage, the Fairhaven team hurried from the ground and cut across a field to reach the trolley line and intercept a car. In this manner they reached the car ahead of many who waited for it at a regular stopping place, and all the boys secured seats. It had been a hot day, and twelve hard innings had tired them to such an extent that they were glad to sit down. “We must have that game to-morrow,” said Garrett, who had taken pains to secure a seat beside Dick. “For that reason I’m not going to send you back to the island to-night. I don’t want you to take that trip. If it should be rough to-morrow you might get shaken up coming over.”
