# The Rival Pitchers/Chapter 13
#### CHAPTER XIII
##### A GIRL AND A GAME

There was a more complete investigation the next day. The report was also circulated that the two sophomores were not so badly injured as had at first been feared. But there was something in the air which showed that stringent measures were likely to be taken by the faculty.
Dr. Churchill was ten minutes late in opening chapel that morning, and there was much stately moving to and fro on the part of the instructors. On the face of Professor Emerson Tines there was a look of satisfaction, as if he was glad that some one had gotten into trouble.
"Look at Pitchfork!" said Sid to Tom, but Tom's face had not lost its anxious look.
"For Heaven's sake, cheer up!" whispered Phil Clinton. "They'll think you did the whole business if they see your face, Tom."
Dr. Churchill made an unusual prayer that morning. Though he did not directly refer to the happening of the previous night, it was in his petition, and many a freshman, impressed by the ​solemn words, then and there resolved to abjure in the future unseemly pranks and to become a "grind."
"The freshman class will remain after chapel this morning," announced the venerable head of Randall, and as the other classes filed out there were commiserating looks cast at the unlucky first-years by the juniors and seniors and vindictive glances bestowed by the sophomores.
The examination was a long and searching one. Tom was questioned at length, but all he would admit was that he took part in the affair, though he stated that he had had nothing to do with fixing the wires. Nor did he tell of having brought the coil to Langridge. His knife was damaging evidence against him, and he was content to let it stand as such. Kerr manfully admitted lighting the fuse which sprung the wires together and sent the current sizzling into the hand rail, but he would go no further nor tell who had strung the conductors.
The faculty dismissed the class and the instructors went into executive session.
"Maybe we'll all be in for it," predicted Phil as the lads strolled off to their classrooms. "They may suspend us all for a week."
"I don't believe they'd do that," was Sid's opinion. "They may forbid any of us taking part in athletics, though."
​"Yes, they might do that," added Fenton. "My uncle says——"
The boys all stopped and looked at him. No one spoke a word. Fenton squirmed under their unflinching gaze.
"Well—well," he began hesitatingly, "he ought to know, for he was a coach here——"
"Yes, and you're a regular trolley car, with an automatic gong that rings up the same thing every time," exclaimed Langridge. "They wouldn't dare keep us out of athletics for such a little joke as that. Why, the whole student body would be up in arms. The ball team would go to pieces, and we'd lose the championship. They wouldn't dare."
"Glad you think so," remarked Holly Cross calmly. "But I can see us giving a good imitation of a lot of fellows in trouble. Maybe we—that is, whoever strung those wires, for I don't know who it was—maybe we went a little too far. If I'd have known what was up, I'd have made a kick."
"Oh, is that so?" sneered Langridge. But he did not admit his part in the prank and he let Tom suffer for him, for that afternoon it was announced that Tom was to be suspended for two weeks and Kerr for three. Every other member of the freshman class was barred from leaving the college grounds for a week.
There arose a mighty protest over this, for there was a game scheduled with Fairview Institute at ​the end of the week, and if the class was kept within bounds it meant that many of the nine could not play and that all the freshmen would be barred from witnessing the second of the championship struggles, as the contest was to take place at Fairview.
Then the faculty reconsidered the matter, being "almost human," as Phil said, and, with the possible exception of Professor Tines, having once been young and fond of sport themselves. They made a new ruling: That the class was to keep within bounds until the day of the game, when all would be allowed to attend save Tom and Kerr. In their case no exception would be made.
There was more objecting, but the ruling stood. It meant that Tom could not pitch on the scrub and that Kerr could not catch on the Varsity, whereat there was much anguish of soul, for the Fairview team was a hard proposition, and it would take the best that was in the Randall lads to beat them. But there was no help for it.
Nor did Tom reproach Langridge for having gotten him into the trouble. Tom had hoped that his rival would confess and shoulder the blame, in which case, merely having brought the wire on a supposition that it was to be used for a comparatively harmless prank, Tom's case would not have been nearly so bad. But Langridge said nothing. Sid heard somehow of the 'varsity pitcher's part in ​the trick. Then Tom's chum expressed the belief that Langridge had deliberately acted so as to get Tom into trouble because the rich lad had feared the newcomer might supplant him as pitcher.
But Tom would not hear of this. He took his suspension grimly, silently, and though barred from class, he kept up his studies; nor did he neglect his practice of throwing curves, Kerr gladly agreeing to catch for him, for the two were outcasts from the diamond, Tom not even being allowed to play on the scrub.
"But two weeks and three weeks can't last forever," declared Kerr, "though I sure would like to see the Fairview game."
Saturday came and with it a feeling of apprehension on the part of the Randall students, for various reports had come to them of the prowess of their rivals. The team made ready to depart for Fairview Institute. They were to go by rail to the college that was fifteen miles away. Tom and Kerr, about the only ones in the athletic set who remained at Randall, looked wistfully at their departing comrades.
And then, so suddenly that it seemed like a miracle, their sorrow was turned to joy, for the proctor sought them out on the campus, where the team was being cheered previous to departure, and announced in the case of the two suspended students that they might go to the game, but take no ​part, even in an emergency. They gladly accepted the terms. Dr. Churchill's heart had softened at the last moment.
"Girls, girls, girls!" exclaimed Tom as he walked out on the field with Sid and Phil and saw the grandstand at Fairview massed with gay femininity. "And all pretty too!"
"Of course," agreed Sid. "What did I tell you? But what interests me more is the other team. Jove! but they are quick," for the Fairview students were batting and catching in a manner to provoke admiration.
There were shrill cries of encouragement from the girls and more hoarse shouts from the male students, for at Fairview the sexes were about evenly divided, both boys and girls taking equal interest in sports.
Coach Lighton shook his head dubiously as he saw the Randall boys stream out on the diamond for practice.
"I hope Cross will appreciate the seriousness of the matter," he said. "He can't begin to touch Kerr at catching, yet he's the best one we can put in."
"Yes," agreed Kindlings. "But maybe we'll make out. I hope so."
Kerr was as nervous as a girl at not being able to play. He paced up and down the coaching lines until Kindlings, fearing he would disconcert the ​team, sent him to the grandstand, where Tom had already gone.
Well, that game with Fairview is ancient history now. Sufficient to say *hat after a good beginning, when they gathered three runs the first inning and held their opponents down to a goose egg, principally through the pitching of Langridge, the Randall lads went to pieces and the Fairviews ran away with them. Langridge was finally fairly batted out of the box and the final score was 16 to 4 in favor of the co-educational institution.
It was a sorely disappointed nine that filed off the diamond, nor could the generous cheers of the victors apply any balm to the wounds.
"Such pitching!" grumbled Phil as he was in the dressing-room. "That lost us the game as much as anything else. Langridge didn't seem to be in form."
The pitcher overheard him.
"I say, Clinton," he called out sneeringly, "you mind your own affairs. I train as good as you, and I didn't miss a fly that came right into my hands," for Phil had thus offended, letting in a run.
"I've seen you pitch better," spoke Sid quietly, for he and several others were "sore" at Langridge, who plainly enough had not been in his usual good form.
"Well, maybe. I can't be on edge all the while," and the pitcher laughed nervously.
​Tom, in the grandstand, was making his way down amid a bevy of pretty girls and wishing he had some one who would introduce him to them when he heard a voice call his name. He turned quickly and saw Madge Tyler in a bewilderingly pretty dress, her hair framing her face in a most bewitching manner, while her eyes were bright with the joy of youth and the fire thereof.
"Too bad, wasn't it?" she asked sympathetically, holding out her hand to Tom. "I was so sorry for Mr. Langridge!"
"Why Langridge?" asked Tom quickly.
"Oh, well, because the pitcher seems to have to work so hard, and then to be defeated——"
'Yes, it was unpleasant—the defeat," agreed Tom. "But are you going out?"
"Yes, I came over with friends to see the game, but I seem to have missed them in the crush."
"Then let me be your escort back to Haddonfield?" asked Tom. "I'm rather by my lonesome, too."
"Oh, thank you. I dare say——"
She paused and looked over the moving mass of students, boys and girls who were laughing happily or walking away dejectedly according to the colors they wore. Tom followed her gaze. He saw Langridge approaching and he knew that Miss Tyler had seen him also.
"There's Mr. Langridge!" she exclaimed. "I ​wonder how he feels? He promised to meet me after the game."
Tom took a sudden resolve. He did not stop to think that it might be a foolish one. He was actuated solely by what he argued to himself was a platonic interest in the pretty girl at his side. He had known her in childhood, he knew her people, and they were old friends of his folks. Of late Tom had heard certain rumors about Langridge, nothing serious as rumors about college students go, but enough to make Tom glad that, in the case of his sisters, Langridge could not get to know them. It was therefore with somewhat the same feeling that he might have warned his sisters that he spoke to Miss Tyler.
"You and Mr. Langridge are quite friendly," he said in what he intended to be a light tone.
"Oh, yes," came the frank answer. "I like him immensely. I like all college boys—when they're nice," she finished with a little laugh.
Tom's face was grave, and she saw it. With a girl's intuition she felt that there was something in the air, and, girl-like, she wanted to know what it was.
"Shouldn't I like him?" she demanded with an arch look.
"Well—er—that is—no, Miss Madge!" burst out Tom, speaking more loudly than he had ​intended to. "You won't mind me speaking about it, for I've known you so many years."
"Oh, I'm not so ancient as all that!" exclaimed the girl rather pertly.
"No," admitted Tom, and he felt that he was getting into deep water and beyond his depth. But he would not retreat and floundered on: "No, but I—I know your folks wouldn't like you to go with Langridge—that is, too much, you know. He does not bear a very good——"
There was a hand on Tom's shoulder, and he felt himself wheeled suddenly around, to be confronted by Langridge. The pitcher had brushed his uniform and looked particularly handsome in a well-fitting suit, while there was a healthy glow to his face.
"Perhaps you'd better repeat over again, Parsons," he said somewhat sternly, "what you were just saying to Miss Tyler about me. I didn't catch it all!"
"I—er—I——" Tom was choking, and the girl bravely came to his relief.
"We were just talking about you," she admitted with a nervous little laugh. "I was saying how disheartening it must be to pitch through a hard game and then lose it. And Tom—I mean Mr. Parsons, but I always call him Tom, for I've known him so long—he was just saying—er—he was just saying that you were rather—well, rather a flirt. I believe ​that was it, wasn't it, Tom?" and she looked quickly at him, but there was meaning in her glance.
Langridge kept his hand on Tom's shoulder and the two looked each other straight in the face unflinchingly. Miss Tyler lost some of her blushes and her cheeks began to pale. Then Tom spoke quietly.
"If you wish to know exactly what I said," was his quiet but tense answer, "I will tell you—later," and he swung on his heel and started down the grandstand steps.
For an instant Langridge stared after him. Then, with a little laugh, he turned to Miss Tyler.
"Poor Parsons is sore because he's been suspended," he said. "He can't even pitch on the scrub. But how pretty you're looking to-day, Miss Madge."
"Miss Tyler, please," she corrected him.
"Mayn't I even call you Miss Madge after IVe been defeated in the game?" he pleaded, and he looked at her boldly. "It would be—er—well, sort of soothing to me."
"Would it?" and she laughed lightly.
"It surely would," and he bent closer toward her.
"Well, then, you may—but only on occasions of defeat."
"Then I'm going to lose every game," he added ​promptly as he turned at her side and walked down the steps.
Tom Parsons, strolling alone over the now vacant diamond, saw them together, and there was a strange feeling in his heart.