The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1915-06-06

w thSSS al Z thS NioiiPioho VI AoS'
season and of this season, too" com.
mented Milly. Il don't wonder. How
swiftly and Clearly they play! They
appear not to exert themselves, YET
they always get the ball in perfec,
time. 1t all reminds 'me of-of the
I rhythm of music And that champion
batter and runner-that Lane in cen
ter-isn't he just beautiful? He walks
and runs like blue-ribbon winner at
the horse show. | tell you one thing,
Connie, these Ouakers are on dress
parade"
ooh, these Ouakers hate them
selves, l don't think" rctorted Nan.
Being rabid girl-fan it was, OF
course, impossible for Nan to speak
baseball convictions or gossip without
characteristic baseball slang. Stuck
on themselves! l never saw the like
in my life That fellow Lane is so
swclled that he can't get down of
his toes. But he's a wonder, | must
admit that. They're bunch of stars.
Easy, fast, trained-they're machines,
and I'll bet they're Indians to fight.
can see it sticking out all over them.
This will certainly be some game with
Whit handing up that jump ball of
his to this gang of champs. But, Con-
mic, I'll go you Whit beats them"
| laughed and refused to gamble.
The gong rang; the crowd seemed
to hum and rustic softly to quiet at
tention; Umpire McClung called the
names OF the batteries; then the ia
miliar PLAY"
There was the usual applause from
the grandstand and welcome cheers
from the bleachers. The RUDE was
the last player to go out. Morrisey
was a manager who always played to
the stands, and no doubt he held the
Rube back for effect. If so, he ought
to have been gratihed. That moment
reminded me of my own team and au-
dience upon the occasion of the
Rube's debut 1t was the same-only
here it happened in the big league, be-
fore a championship team and twenty
thousand fans.
The roar that went up from the
bleachers might we'll have scared an
unseasoned pitcher out of his wits.
And the Quakers lined up before
their bench and gazed at this new
conner who had the nerve to walk
out there to the box. Cogswell stood
on the coaching line, looked at the
Rube and then held up both arms
and turned toward the Chicago bench
as il to ask Morrisey: where did
you get that?"
Nan, quick as flash to catch
point, leaned over the box-rail and
looked at the champions with fire in
her eye. "Oh, you just wait! wait!"
she bit out between her teeth.
Certain it was that there was no
one who knew the RUDE as we'll as l;
and / knew beyond the shadow Of a
doubt that the hour before me would
see frightening of great star pitcher
on the big league horizon. 1t was
bound to be full hour for me. /
had much reason to be grateful to
Whit Hurtle. He had pulled my team
out OF a rut and won me the PEN
nant, and the FIVE thousand dollars
| got for his release bought the lit
tie cottage on the hill for Milly and
me- Then there was my pride in hav
ing developed him. And all that I
needed to calm me, settle me down
into assurance and keen criticism Of
the game, was to see the Rube pitch
a few balls with his old incompara-
bic speed and control.
Berne, first batter for the Ouakers,
walked up to the plate. He was an
other Billy Hamilton. built like a
wedge. | saw him laugh at the long
pitcher.
Whit swayed back, coiled and I'M
coiled. Something thin, white, glanc-
ing, shot at Berne He ducked, es-
Gaping the ball by smaller margin |
than appeared good for his con-
hdence. He spoke low to the RUDE,
and what he said was probably not
favored with the milk of friendly
sweetness.
wild. What'd you look for" call
ed out Cogswell. scornfully. Hes
from the woods
The Rube swung his enormously
long arm, took an enormous stride to-
ward third base, and pitched again 1t
was ono of his queer deliveries. The
ball cut the plate.
"Ho! Ho!" yelled the Ouakers.
The Rube's next pitch was his out
curve. 1t broke toward the corner of
the plate and would have been a strike
had not Berne popped it up.
Callopy, the second hitter. faced the
Rube. and he, too, after the manner
Of ball players, made some remark
meant only for the Rube's ears. Cal
lopy. was famous waiter He drove
more pitchers mad with his implacable
patience than any hitter in the league.
The first one of the Rube's he wait