The latter could not get over the destruction of his silk hat, though a new one had been purchased for him, and when the final vote was taken he barred Sid from getting back on the nine.

"I have reason to believe that Mr. Henderson is inclined to too much horse-play," he said, "as indicated by what he did to my hat. Again, if he were a popular student the freshmen would have joined in the request. They did not, as a cla.s.s, and so I am constrained to vote as I do."

None of the faculty--even Professor Tines--knew the real reason why the freshmen names were not down, and no one cared about mentioning it, for it was not a thing for students to discuss with the teachers. Mr.

Leighton did his best, in a delicate way, but it was of no use. The pet.i.tion failed, and not a few members of the faculty were deeply grieved, for they wanted to see a championship nine in Randall. Still they would not argue with Professor Tines.

And the chances of Randall winning the championship and the loving cup seemed to be diminishing from day to day, in spite of the strenuous efforts of Tom, Ed Kerr and Mr. Leighton. There was something lacking. No one could just say what it was, but there was a spirit of uncertainty, and a sense of worriment in the nine, that did not operate for perfect team work.

Tom threatened and pleaded by turns, but his words had little effect.

The men showed up well in practice, and played a fast and snappy game with the scrub, but when it came to going out on the diamond there was a lack of batting ability and an absence of team work, that had a bad effect, and several games were won only by narrow margins, while some, that should have been won, were lost.

"We play Boxer Hall, Sat.u.r.day," observed Tom, in his room with Phil and Sid one evening. "I wonder how we'll make out."

"It isn't the last game, is it?" inquired Sid.

"No, there's one more, and another with Fairview. But I'm not worrying much about the co-eds. It's Boxer that has me guessing. Oh, Sid, but I wish you were with us."

"So do I," and Sid turned his face aside.

"Can't you get back?" asked Phil. "Can't you go to Dr. Churchill, and explain--about that bottle of liquor--you know."

"No," answered Sid gently, "I can't."

"The nine may lose," declared Tom.

"I'm--I'm just as sorry as you are, Tom," said the second baseman earnestly, "but it's out of the question. I can't explain--just yet."

"Can you ever?" demanded Phil eagerly.

"Perhaps--soon now. I am hoping every day."

"Have you given a--a sort of promise--to some one?" asked Tom gently.

"Yes," replied Sid in a low voice. "It's a promise, and a great deal depends on it--even more than the championship of Randall college." And that was all Sid would say for the time being.

The game with Boxer Hall was a hard one. Tom and his men had to work for everything they got, for Langridge seemed to have improved in his pitching, and the fielding of Randall's enemy was a thing to rejoice the heart of her captain and coach.

The game ran along to the seventh inning with some sensational plays, and the score was 6 to 4 in favor of Boxer. Then Langridge grew a bit wild, and issued several pa.s.ses until the bases were full, when a three bagger which Holly Cross knocked brought in three runs, and put Randall one ahead. There was wild delight then, and as none were out it looked as if Randall would be good for at least two more runs. But Langridge got control of the ball, and struck out three men, and the next inning Boxer put in a new pitcher--a semi-professional it was whispered, though Tom and his fellows decided to take no notice of the talk.

Then began a desperate effort on the part of Boxer Hall to get in two more runs in the remaining two innings. They adopted unfair tactics, and several times the umpire warned the men on the coaching line that they were violating the rules.

Tom managed to stiffen his work in the eighth, and, though two men got walking papers, no runs came in, for the next three batters went down and out under the influence of Tom's curves. But that inning saw no runs for Randall, either, and when her men came in for their last chance Tom pleaded with them to get at least one more to clinch the victory that was held by such a narrow margin. It was not to be, however, and a zero went up in the Randall s.p.a.ce on the score board.

The score was 7 to 6, in favor of Randall, when Boxer Hall came up for the ending of the ninth inning.

"If we can only hold 'em there," thought Tom wearily, for his arm ached.

Still he would not give up, though Rod Evert was anxious to fill the box.

Tom struck out the first man, gave the next one a pa.s.s, and was. .h.i.t for a single by the third batter. Then the Randall captain knew he must work hard to win. He struck out the next batter, and as Dave Ogden, who followed, was a notoriously hard hitter, Tom was worried. A three bagger, which was Ogden's specialty, would bring in two runs, and win the game for Boxer.

Dutch signalled for a drop, but Tom gave the negative sign, and indicated that he would pitch an out. As the ball left his fingers he was aware that it had slipped and that Ogden would hit it.

He did. There was a resounding "whack" and the ball, a hot liner, came straight for Tom. The Boxer Hall crowd set up a yell, thinking their man had made good, and that two runs, at least, would come in. For no one expected to see Tom stop the ball.

But he did. It was well over his head, and pa.s.sing him on the right side. He leaped into the air, and with his bare hand caught the horsehide. The impact on his unprotected palm was terrific, and he was at once aware that he had split the skin. But though a pain, like a red hot iron, shot down his arm, he held on.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE LEAPED INTO THE AIR AND WITH HIS BARE HAND CAUGHT THE HORSEHIDE.]

"Batter's out!" cried the umpire. Then, amid the wild and frenzied shouting of his chums, Tom dropped the ball, and walked in, his arm hanging limply by his side, while Dutch and Mr. Leighton ran anxiously toward him.

But what did Tom Parsons care for an injured hand? He had saved Randall from defeat, for that ended Boxer's chances, two men died on bases, and the game was over, the score being 7 to 6 in Randall's favor.

CHAPTER XXVII

GLOOMY DAYS

"Much hurt?" inquired Mr. Leighton anxiously, as he reached Tom's side.

"Oh, nothing to speak of," replied the plucky pitcher carelessly, but when he held up his hand a few drops of blood trickled from it, and there was a thin, red line across the palm.

"You shouldn't have stopped that ball!" exclaimed Dutch, half savagely.

"I shouldn't? Do you think I was going to stand there and let it go by, and lose us the game?" demanded Tom. "I guess not--not for two sore hands!"

"But, it's your pitching hand," expostulated Dutch. "We need you the rest of the season, and the championship is far from won--in fact it's almost as far off as the stars," he added in a low voice, for he, too, had noted the lack of team work in the present game, and some that had preceded.

"Oh, don't be a croaker," advised Tom, trying to speak lightly though he was in considerable pain. "I'll be all right in a week. We haven't any hard game until then, and we'll go in and clean up all the roosts around here before the season closes."

"I hope so," remarked Mr. Leighton in a low voice. "You had better let the doctor look at that hand, Parsons. No use taking any chances."

The injury was temporarily bandaged and Tom, with a queer feeling about him, that was not at all connected with his wound, changed his uniform for street clothing and returned to Randall with the nine. Dr. Marshall, later, dressed the hurt, and decided that Tom must refrain from playing ball for at least a week--perhaps longer.

"I'll have Evert warming up all this week," decided the coach. "We play the Branchville nine Sat.u.r.day, and ought to win easily. Then I think you'll be ready for Fairview the following week, and Boxer Hall after that."

"The last two big games," murmured Tom. "We've got to win them both if we want the championship, and I'm afraid----"

"Oh, cheer up!" advised Phil. "I know I played rotten to-day, but I'll do better next time. Please forgive me?" and he a.s.sumed a mocking, contrite air, at which Tom could not help laughing.

"Get out!" exclaimed the captain. "You know I wasn't referring to you.

But, seriously, Phil, something's got to be done. Think of it! We pulled through by the skin of our teeth to-day----"

"By the skin of your hand, you mean."

"Well, have it that way, but consider. Next Sat.u.r.day will be an easy contest. Then comes Fairview and Boxer, both after our scalps. As it stands now we have played a number of games besides those with our two big enemies and are tied with Boxer for first place, and the possession of the loving cup. If we lose the Fairview game, and Boxer beats Fairview we will still have a show, by beating Boxer ourselves, but if it goes the other way we're out of it. Our only hope is to do up both Fairview and Boxer, in succession, and how we are going to do it is more than I can tell."