Evening star., 1922-09-17
BY GERALD BEAUMONT
One of the Most Successful of
the Newer American Writers.

new pitcher for the opposition. who
was warming up on the side lines.
Then he turned to mis- veteran short
stop and extended a gnarled hand, to
| show that he knew what had hap
pened.
I've been in the game a long time
he said. And and well put II
| there"
Barry complied, and the two old
friends sat side by side. staring out
across the diamond. The game der
veloped into one Of those nip-and-
tuck contests. where victory becomex
a matter OF vital Importance to d bali
clubs morale. The Tigers forged
ahead by one run in the twelfth in
ming, and again heroic measures ~
came necessary. Once more the gods
Of base ball ruled that Bobby Ormsby
should come up with two out and the
tying run on third base. But this time
he was facing a new pitcher. Lefty
McBride-the man who had always
been Tom Rarry's Nemesis. and not a
teammate could get the signals of the
catcher.
The youngster was plainly nervous.
He let perfect strike carve the plate
without Offering at il and then swung
wildly at a bad ball. Groans came
from the bleachers, and in the grand
stand there was a movement toward
the exits. Suddenly a pudgy Irish
man, with a fighting face. scrambled
from the dugout with his hands up
raised and shouted at the umpire. The
latter took off his mask and signaled
time. Ormsby stepped out Of the bat
ters box, eyes on his manager. The
latter whirled on Tom Barry.
"G'wan up there and get your HIT,
he snapped That was all: "G'wan w
there and get your hit"
HFECHANICALLY the big shortstop
1Nl complied. He grasped the neaF-
est bat and hurried toward the plate, 4,
He did not look a ormsby as they
passed each other. Barrys heart was
pa!pitating under the impetus of a
great fear Cold sweat oozed from
the palms of his hands, and his knees
wabbled. This was worse than any
thing that had ever happened TO him.
Two strikes already on him before
he even went to the plate. and there
wasLefty Mcbride sizing him UP con-
fidently. Brick McGovern wasn't g.v-
ing him any chance at all.
Barry swung at the first bail
pitched In a daze he saw it bound
past the pitcher. and he figured u
would be easy for the second base
man; but he ran as hard as he could,
Twenty feet from first base. out Of
ball bound badly, and the second
baseman stab at it hurriedly with one
hand.
The crowd yelled triumphantly, and
he knew that he was safe and the
man on third had scored. He came,
painting, back to stand on first base
and hear Peewee Patterson shouting,
in his ear:
Boy. oh. boy, ATS the old lucky
bound. Ats gettin' out of the Of
slump. Now you're started. Tom
called the turn. l knew it would
break for you! Now you're in the
old stride .,
Up in the press box the official
scorer poised his pencil uncertainty
and turned to his colleagues.
How did that last play look to you
fellows?' he inquired. Ball hoped
badly. didn't it?'
Looked that way to me-" said
Whitney of the Star Il wouldn't
give no man an error on that. I'd
give old Tom a hit: he needs it
Guess that's right" agreed the
scorer. Wen call it hit for old
times sake. Well. there's another
strike-opt. That means a couple of
more innings. l guess. Damn the
luck!'
A painting bat bay pushed his way
into the reporters inclosure.
Mr.. McGovern wants to know If
Barry got a hit on that last one," he
told them. They replied in the at-
firmative, and the boy vanished. That
simple YES" meant a tremendous lot
to Brick McGovern. for he had gam
bled and won. and he knew how to
capitalize every point.
Out on the field. in his accustomed
place at short, Tom Barry heard his
manager bawling from the dugout:
"'At's giving me service, Tom They
give you a hit on 1T. big fellow.
Everything's coming your way now.
Nothing can stop you, boy. All you
needed was the old rest"
Barry pounded the palm OF his
worn glove and tried to quiet ihe
tumult that waged within him. He
was bewildered with the conflicting
emotions Of tremendous hope and
an equally powerful fear. But he
managed to field his position skill
fully. al
Nevertheless. in the fourteenth In
ming. it seemed that fortune was un-
relenting. The visiting club ham,
mered out two runs. and once again
the crowd massed at the exits. Up
in the press box the newspaper men
occupants were trying to decide
whether 1t was safe to start COM
piling the box score.
"Dick Browns coming up" said the
official scorer, 'and that guy is al
ways dangerous. If they put him
out. then we can start adding UP this
mess -
Down below. the first of the three
bludgeoneers strolled up to the plate,
swinging a heavy black club. He
looked over his shoulder at Bristol
and Barry. standing side by side. and
awaiting their turn. Brown also was
a married man, and he OWNED what
was passing in the minds OF his two.