Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1910-08-20
One was coming now. He famed the
air like q windmill.
"Strike twor


air like a windmill.
Strike twow
The captain of the Bellevilles grinned
triumphant. He. too. stood with legs
apart and glared like an Indian on
the warpath. He tasted salt sweat In
his open mouth and forgot to wipe 1t
Off. Blood was In his eye. the scent
of glory In his nostrils. II needed but
one more He gave last upward
sweep and delivered beautiful rising
and falling ball.
Sam. despairing. on the edge of the
game. dragged up voice enough to
shout with the full force OF his lungs
"Get her, Don! Hit 1t or BUST
Donald forgot his professional scowl.
He cooked an eye of agonizcd en-.
deavor at the falling speck. poised his
bat in fingers that felt 1t not at all.
made a stroke which seemed to him
the wave Of fcather-and hit the ball
with crack that was heard outside
the fences. 1t was straight liner.
passing over the heads of the second
bnse and center field. The home team
and Its friends yelled for all they were
worth:
go It, DOM
"Hooray for Don Harvey"
Look out for 'em. Run! Look oat
for em!"
The outfielder of the Bellevilles has
the ball in his hands. He Is throwing
1t to the captain in the box. Like
thing without feeling or WEAKNESS of
the flesh, like n mechanical toy run
ming swiftly between the hot earth and
the blazing sky. Don was covering the
distance from third to home.
Is this tireless runner the boy who
broke his head on the river raft this
mornlng-who fell Off the blufr-who
has walked ten dusty miles?
The captain of the Bellevilles has
the ball and Is sending It redhot to-
ward the home plate
A clock is striking 4. but Donald does
not stop to search for a dance program
and a blue pencil. He has lost all SEN
sation but motion, all desire save
speed.
The Mount Pisgahs are yelling de-
liriously. They can scarcely withhold
their legs from running with him.
Hit her up. DOM
"Yah! Ye're beat. BeIlevillesw
"Slide! Slide. Col durn 1t. slider
And he does slide over the tearing
cinders, with one forearm under him
and a cheek that gets a dab now and
then. Gasping, grunting. streaming
with sweat, he slides almost twice
his own length. Stretching fat out,
his abraded finger ends touch the home
base-and It's victory for the Dons!
That night. as tired boy very ten
derby peeled damp shirt from blister
cd shoulders. his mother on her way
to the kitchen tossed in at his door
delicately scented. pink tinted envel-
ope.
With the one sleeve he had worked
loose pulled over his head and held
gingerly in cautious fingers, Don open
ed the note with his teeth and loft
hand and read the following:
Dear Donald-Wasn't 1t fine your team
won? Did you think OF me every minute
while you were playing? l shall never
forget our walk home last night Bring
your program to the library In the morn
ing and let's exchange. Mine is full
YOU KNOW WHO.
AS he struggled through this COM
municatlon Donalds jaw gradually
fell.
"'Our walk home last night'-'pro-
grant," Moved by some vague men,
ory Of the muscles alone, his hand
went to his trousers pocket in which
card and pencil had been slowed 1t
came away empty.
Last night! Empires had risen and
been cast down since then; dynasties
had come into power and suffered de-
cay. His mind CROPPED helplessly for
the mood which belonged with the
missing program. Poor Don! He
meant so well. He was as sincere In
one side of his nature as In the other
What had be promised to write!
Where was he TO meet the sender Of
that note? Why, who
Suddenly his brain. so recently occu
pied by rude masculine activities, re-
fused him memory. Even as he sorted
and shuffled phrases In his mind. de-
termined to fill some program with