The Crimson Sweater/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
ON FOX ISLAND
Spring came suddenly that year. They woke up one morning to find the river flowing warmly blue and free of ice, the walks running with crystal water and the bricks steaming in the fervid sunshine. Winter had disappeared over night and Spring had come to its own again. With the awakening of the new season came the awakening of new interests. The crew candidates, who for weeks past had been toiling ingloriously at the rowing machines in the basement of the gymnasium, went trooping down the path to the river and launched their shells. The baseball candidates who had been throwing and batting in the cage and sliding to bases over the hard floor trotted out to the field in search of a dry spot whereon to hold their first outdoor practice. With the former went Horace Burlen, free at last, in spite of his enemies' croakings, of all conditions, and Hadden and Gallup and Whitcomb and Otto Ferris and others. With the baseball candidates went Chub, Roy, Bacon, Kirby, Post and many more. And—oh, yes—Sid Welch! Sid had entertained hopes of making the second crew, but such hopes had been sadly shattered. And as Sid had to be trying for something to be content he naturally went in for the only first-class sport left.
"I think," he confided to Chub, "I think I'd like to play shortstop."
"Just as you say, Sid," Chub answered gravely. "All you'll have to do will be to beat Bacon out for the position. You're sure you wouldn't rather pitch? Post and Kirby, you know, aren't so much of a muchness but what you could beat 'em with a little practice."
"Well, anyhow, I don't see why I couldn't be a fielder," answered Sid good-naturedly. "You'll give me a show, won't you, Chub?"
"Course I will, Sid," answered Chub heartily. "You come along out and we'll see what you can do. First of all, though, we'll take a little of that fat off you."
"I've been trying to get rid of it," Sid replied earnestly and sadly, "but it doesn't seem to do any good. I haven't eaten any bread or potato or puddin' for days and days!"
"Never mind the bread and potato, Sid," said Chub with a laugh. "I know a better way."
"What?" asked the other interestedly.
"Chasing flies, my boy!" was the answer.
March was kind to them. It gave them a clear two weeks of fair weather at the end. To be sure, the wind howled dismally sometimes and it was often cold enough to make fingers stiff, but it allowed them to stay out of doors and that was the main thing. April, however, started in meanly. Ten days of drizzle and wet fields affected even Chub's temper. But everything, even a spell of rainy weather, must come to an end some time, and the second week of April brought back sunny skies and mild days. And after that affairs went briskly on the diamond.
Roy had kept his promise to his chum, a promise made on the occasion of their first meeting and re-made several times since. For Chub had got it into his head that Roy had the making of a baseball player and never allowed him to forget for a moment all winter long that he had agreed to try for the team.
"You ought to make a good baseman," Chub said once, looking over his friend with the eye of a connoisseur. "Maybe third—or even first. You've got height and a good long reach; and you're quick and heady. Patten's the only fellow I know of who's after first base. He was substitute last year. He's not bad, but he's not an expert by a long shot. Just you come out, old man, and see what you can do."
And Roy promised for the twentieth time.
Training table was started the middle of April, with Mr. Cobb in command. By that time the candidates had been weeded out until there were but fourteen left. The "culls," as Chub called them, went toward the making up of the second team. There was practice every afternoon save Sunday, usually ending with a short game with the second nine, the latter strengthened by the presence of Mr. Cobb, who played first base or pitched as occasion required. Roy bought a rule-book early in the season and studied it diligently, following it up later with an invaluable blue-covered pamphlet which told him exactly how to play every position on the team. In the end, however, he discovered that the best way to learn baseball is to play it.
Chub started him at left-field and kept him there until he had learned to judge a ball, catch it and field it home. It was hard work, but Roy liked it. Sometimes, however, he doubted whether he would ever vindicate Chub's belief in him. There seemed an awful lot to learn and he envied the ready thought displayed by the fellows who had been playing the game for several years. I think that Chub would have strained a point to keep Roy with him as long as it did not endanger the success of the team, for by this time the two were well-nigh inseparable. But it very soon became evident that no favoritism was necessary; Roy deserved a place on the nine by virtue of his ability. By the middle of April he was having a try at first and two weeks later he had succeeded to the position vice Patten removed to the outfield.
It didn't take him long to accustom himself to the place and its requirements. As Chub had said, he had height and reach, was quick and steady and clear-headed. Of course there was talk; disgruntled fellows who had failed at making the team sneered at Chub's favoritism, and Horace found time from his rowing duties to try and stir up discord amongst the baseball men. But Patten, who had more cause than anyone else to feel dissatisfied, had nothing to say. He had sense enough to realize that Chub had given the position to the best man, and enough of the right sort of spirit to be satisfied, so long as it was for the good of the team and the school. Patten went out to right-field, stifled his disappointment and "played ball."
Chub must have been right. Unless he "has it in him" no boy can learn to play baseball well in three months, as Roy did. Perhaps, though, Mr. Cobb's coaching deserves more credit than I am giving it. He certainly worked hard with Roy. And so did Chub. And the other members of the nine, amongst whom Roy was highly popular, helped, perhaps unconsciously, to give him self-confidence in the early days of his novitiate. So, it seems, the Fates worked together to fashion him into a baseball player much to the regret of Mr. Buckman who had entertained hopes of securing him for the second four. But although Roy liked the water well enough and was never more contented than when out with Chub in the crimson canoe, he was more at home on the turf. Perhaps the first or second four lost a good oar when Roy chose baseball instead of rowing; be that as it may, it is certain the nine found a good first baseman.
April recess began on the twenty-second and lasted nine days, from Friday afternoon to the second Monday morning, although, as the fellows were required to be back at School by Sunday noon, eight days come nearer to the mark than nine. Crew and baseball candidates were supposed to remain at Ferry Hill during this recess and most of them did so. Roy was undecided whether to stay or go home. Chub begged him to remain, putting it to him first on the score of duty to the nine and then citing the camping-out on Fox Island as an inducement. Roy's mother decided the matter for him eventually by writing that she was going South for six weeks. She suggested that Roy join her at a South Carolina winter resort, but Roy had no desire for a week of hotel existence and so threw in his lot with Chub, Gallup, Bacon, Post, Kirby and the others. Jack Rogers went home and so did Sid, who had been working hard on the second nine and showing quite a little promise. Doctor and Mrs. Emery took a week's vacation, but Harry was left behind—greatly to her delight—because her holidays did not come until later. Mr. Cobb, too, disappeared from the scene and the charge of the school was left in Mr. Buckman's hands.
Saturday was the first day of the recess and Roy and Chub spent the morning on the river. They paddled down stream for a mile or more in the canoe and fished, but with scant success. In the afternoon came baseball practice which ended with a six-inning game with a Silver Cove team. Sunday was rather dull for it rained torrents. Chub, Roy, Gallup and Post donned rubber coats or old sweaters in the afternoon and took a long tramp inland. But Monday morning dawned bright and fresh and as soon as breakfast was over the fellows, under Mr. Buckman's direction, began the overhauling of the camping outfit. The four big tents were pulled from their quarters in the boat house, spread out on the landing and gone over for holes or weak places. Then lost pegs were replaced, new guy-ropes supplied and a broken ridge-pole was mended. Dinner was rather a hurried meal that day, for every fellow—and there were twenty-odd left at school—was eager to get into camp. At three o'clock the tents and outfits were loaded into row boats and transferred to the island. All afternoon boats went back and forth on errands; baking powder had been forgotten, Gallup wanted his camera, someone had left one of the hatchets on the landing, cook had neglected to grind the coffee before packing it, four more blankets were needed, Mr. Buckman wanted a roll of adhesive plaster and a bottle of arnica. Meanwhile the tents were erected, the old cook-stove was set up and fuel gathered. At five o'clock, Kirby, under Mr. Buckman's tuition, began the preparation of the first meal. Roy and Chub and half a dozen others built the camp fire in the open space between the tents, piling up the brush and slanting the dead limbs above it until the whole looked like an Indian wigwam. Then came supper; bacon, potatoes, tea, milk and "spider cake," the latter an indigestible but delightful concoction of thin flour batter poured into the frying pan and cooked until nice and soggy.
After supper the camp-fire was lighted, the fellows spread themselves out on the ground about it and the camp went into executive session. Chub was elected Little Chief—Mr. Buckman was Big Chief—and Roy became Medicine Man. Then four Chiefs of Tribe were elected and the honors fell to Roy, Horace Burlen, Kirby and Pryor. These, in turn, selected their warriors and were assigned to tents—or tepees, as they preferred to call them. Roy chose Chub, Gallup, Bacon and Post; Burlen selected Ferris, Hadden, Whitcomb and Walker; Kirby and Pryor made up their households of what material was left, each having five instead of six companions as there were twenty-two boys in the party. Mr. Buckman cast his lot with Burlen's Utes. Roy's tribe was christened Seminole, Kirby's Ojibway and Pryor ruled despotically over the Navajos. Mr. Buckman explained the camp rules. There weren't many of them, but they were strict. The Chiefs of Tribes could grant permission to leave the island but were required to report the names of those leaving to the Big Chief. Every tribe must delegate one of its warriors each day to be fisherman; fishermen must fish not less than two hours and turn their catch over to the Little Chief. Every warrior or Chief must strip his bed before breakfast and hang his blankets in the sun. Each tribe must select a member to be cook and take his turn at preparing the meals; also an assistant whose duty it was to help and wash up the utensils. Prompt attendance at meals was imperative. Offenses would be judged by a council composed of the Big and Little Chiefs, the Medicine Man and the four Tribal Chiefs and punishment would be meted out by them. In the absence of the Big Chief the Little Chief took command; in the absence of both authority was vested in the Medicine Man.
At nine o'clock the fellows sought their quarters and made their beds, for which purpose plenty of pine and hemlock boughs had been cut and piled in the clearing. Each tent was supplied with a lantern which swung from the ridge-pole. A rustic bench held a half-dozen tin wash-basins and a looking-glass was hung from a tree nearby. By half-past nine preparations for the night were complete and the boys gathered again about the dying fire and, kneeling, recited the Lord's Prayer. Then good-nights were said and the Tribes separated. For some time the sound of laughter was heard. Then quiet fell over Fox Island and a big moon, coming up over the tree tops, threw the four tents into dazzling whiteness and paled the glow of the dying embers where the camp fire had been.
"Quiet fell over Fox Island"