CHAPTER XXIII A TIE GAME

Robert Owen received many attentions from enthusiastic schoolmates that afternoon. They hovered around him while he was dressing; they dropped in on him after he reached his room. But it was Patterson who got the credit for the pitching performance; and Rob, you may be sure, let fall no hint that would lessen the pitcher's glory. It was encouragement that Pat needed to bring out the best that was in him; he was getting it now in full measure.

But after all, the voluble flatteries of the ignorant were of little value to Rob compared with the opinions of captain and coach. They accosted him on his way up from the gymnasium, just where he had met them three weeks earlier, after the game between the First and Second.

"Well, Owen," began the coach, "it was a great game you caught to-day."

[Pg 253]

Rob's modest smile and quiet "Thank you" represented but poorly the delight he felt.

"I really was surprised at Patterson's work," went on Lyford. "I didn't imagine he could do so well. It looked as though he was going up in the eighth, but you pulled him down handily. You played in luck there, too, for it isn't often that a man is forced at the plate."

"How much of that pitching did Patterson really do?" demanded Poole, abruptly.

Rob glanced keenly at the captain. "All of it," he answered quickly. "It was good pitching, too. The ball came right where it was wanted."

"But you ran the thing, didn't you?"

"Why, yes, in a way. When I called for a ball he put it over as I wanted it unless he had something better. He usually took my suggestions."

Lyford nodded agreement. "There should be but one head in a battery," he said, "and it's my opinion that if you've got a good, wideawake catcher, it's better to let him do the head-work."

"We've decided to keep Rorbach at right," said Poole. "You're too valuable a man to[Pg 254] waste in the outfield. And you may as well go on catching Patterson."

Rob scampered ecstatically up to his room. There is nothing like a victory which you have worked and waited and longed for through months of discouragement, and, finally, in spite of every obstacle, actually won. This day's work had brought the authorities over to his side. After this there could be no more taking for granted that the old catcher must be the best catcher, and that experience elsewhere must be inferior to that acquired at Seaton. Borland was on the defensive now; if he would hold his place, he must prove his claim to it. And to do that he must accomplish something more than make a steady backstop and occasionally catch a man at second. Rob chuckled aloud as he recalled Poole's question about running the pitcher. Twice only in the game had Patterson ventured to pitch a ball different from what his catcher had called for. One of these had been fouled close to the line; and the other—a straight over after two strikes and a ball, which Pat had tried in hopes of a quick strike-out—the batter had smashed to centre field for two[Pg 255] bases. As a strategist, Patterson could be improved upon, but it certainly was not the catcher's business to say so, especially as Pat had vowed that afternoon after the two-bagger that he'd never interfere again.

Then the congratulating friends began to drop in—Lindsay, Laughlin, Duncan Peck, Strong, Ware, Hendry, Salter. Simmons appeared in the midst of the bustle and retired shyly into a corner, whence he looked on at the demonstration with smiling but silent approval. He evidently had something on his mind. Duncan Peck also showed himself unusually subdued; and though he had that day been permitted to remove from his door the hateful inscription "Duncan Peck, Study Hours, 8-1, 4-6, 8 P.M.—" which had adorned it these four months, he yet manifested no exuberance of joy at his freedom.

The visitors went their ways before dinner-time, leaving to Simmons his opportunity. "I didn't go to the game—" he began, as if about to excuse himself for disloyalty.

"Up the river again with Payner?" asked Rob, smiling.

[Pg 256]

Simmons nodded.

"Have a good time?"

"Fine! Up the river, Payner's very different from what he is here. He's as jolly as can be, and tells you lots of things."

"Well, what's the matter, then? What makes you look glum?"

"I'll tell you. When we got home he took me into his room to show me a new specimen. Then he asked me what the Pecks were going to do about the plagues, and I told him that there wasn't any change so far as I'd heard. At that he looked fierce, and said they'd get the full number then; they'd better look out, for he'd put them to the bad before he got through with them. Then he asked me if I didn't want to see what the next one was going to be. I said Yes, and he unlocked the closet door and let me look in. What do you think I saw?"

Simmons paused and gazed at Owen with big, horrified eyes.

"Well, what was it?" demanded the ball player. "I'm not going to guess through the whole zo?logy. Spit it out, can't you?"

[Pg 257]

"In the back of the closet was a kind of wire-levered box like a big rat trap, and in the box was an awfully big, shiny, black snake, all coiled up!"

"Dead?" asked Owen.

"Alive!"

"How did you know?"

"I saw it move its head, and the eyes shone, and there was food for it sticking through the wires."

"That's about the limit!" exclaimed Rob. "What then?"

"He pulled me out and locked the door, and said, as quietly as if he were talking about a common bug, that he was going to wait a day or two and see if they were coming round. If they didn't, he'd give 'em the snake; he didn't know how yet, but they'd surely get it. Then he wanted me to promise not to let on about it to any one."

"Did you promise?"

Simmons straightened up. "No, I didn't," he declared proudly. "I just let him know what I thought of him and cleared out!"

[Pg 258]

"You told Duncan about it, didn't you?" asked Rob.

"Yes; how did you know?"

"I could see it in his face when he was here a few minutes ago. You'd better not worry over it. Payner wouldn't put a snake like that into their room."

"Oh, yes, he would," answered Simmons, wisely, with a doleful shake of his head. "You don't know that fellow. He's all right if you let him alone; but when he's mad, he's terrible. Why, he doesn't care any more for a snake like that than I do for an angleworm!"

It was nearly time for dinner, and as both preferred to be on hand at Alumni when the doors were opened, the conversation came to an end. Rob half resolved to have a serious talk with the Pecks that evening and see if he could not induce them to put an end to the unseemly feud. But after dinner he was unexpectedly called to a baseball meeting, and after that there were two lessons to prepare; so it happened that with his work and his natural weariness from the game, and the excitement of his new prospects, he for[Pg 259]got completely the Pecks and Payner and the snake.

But Duncan did not forget. He was thoroughly sick of the whole affair. Of what use was it to be off study hours, if one must forever be watching and dodging and locking up, never free from fear and never able to placate the enemy? Why must he suffer because Don was a mule? And the big snake! He shuddered at the thought of the coiling, crawling thing. He began to see it in the dark corners, to hear it in the rustle of papers on the floor. It was like a waking nightmare.

By evening he was ready for a decisive step. He went resolutely to Payner's room and made a complete apology. Payner listened and nodded approval. "I thought it was about time you fellows came down off your perch," he said. "Next time perhaps you won't be in such a hurry to roughhouse a new fellow. It's all right now as far as you've gone; but where's the other one of you?"

"My apology will do for both, won't it?"

"No, sir!" returned Payner, with decision. "You've both got to toe the scratch and say[Pg 260] your little pieces, or it's no go. Two or nothing. Send along your brother with the same story, and then mebbe I'll call off the dogs."

"I will if I can," replied Duncan, dismally.

It was a badly discouraged lad who sneaked back to the Peck quarters and threw himself on his couch. It was no use. Don would never yield. He might fight, or get up a counter demonstration, but apologize—never. Duncan lay for some time on his back, throwing his knife into the air and catching it again. This process always had a soothing effect. It also served to clarify his thoughts and stir his imagination. After half an hour's practice with mind and hand, a new idea dawned upon him.

Pocketing his knife with a slap, Duncan pulled open the closet door and fumbled among the garments hung thick upon the crowded hooks. Yes, there was Donald's variegated waistcoat which he had been sporting of late, and which, in the excitement of the morning's scramble for breakfast and chapel, he had mourned his inability to find. Duncan stowed it away in a corner under a box, where only a thorough over[Pg 261]hauling of the contents of the closet could bring it to light; then much easier in mind he took up the work of the evening.

On the next morning there was another burst of sputtering on the part of Donald, for this time his flat-topped gray hat, adorned with the hatband of the fraternity which he had recently joined, had likewise disappeared. He could find it nowhere, although he stole four minutes for the search from the short allowance for breakfast, and notwithstanding Duncan's remarkably unselfish assistance. A cap was near at hand, however, and taking this, Donald at length hurried over to the dining hall, vowing to complain to Dr. Mann downstairs that Lady Jane was swiping his things.

For two hours at least he could not execute his threat, for at eight came Greek, and at nine Rushers' Math. Duncan, who was in the Flunkers' section, recited an hour later, and thus was free between nine and ten. Once the "nine o'clocks" were well under way, Duncan arrayed himself in his brother's favorite necktie, donned the resplendent waistcoat, fished out the flat-topped[Pg 262] hat with its striking hatband from beneath his bureau, and giving to the brim the rakish tilt which Donald affected, put it carefully upon his head. Thus panoplied he rapped confidently on Payner's door.

"I've come to see you about that room business," began Duncan, looking down at the hat which he held in front of him, and yet in such a way that the waistcoat was largely visible.

Payner had risen from his chair. "So you're the other one, are you? Well, what do you want?"

"Didn't you send for me?" asked the visitor.

"No, I didn't," retorted Payner, sharply. "I said I wouldn't receive any apology until you both came."

"Well, I'm ready to apologize," announced the Peck. "I'm very sorry we did it."

This was a true word if Duncan had ever spoken such! His tones were likewise sincere. Payner, who at present sought victory rather than vengeance, and was not at heart bloodthirsty, felt immediately mollified. "How did you happen to do it?" he asked. "I'd never done anything to you fellows."

[Pg 263]

"Well, you see, you put the Moons wise about their room, and we thought you'd no business to butt in. We didn't hurt the Moons any. It did them lots of good."

"It didn't do me any good," replied Payner, significantly.

"Nor us," said Duncan, with his eyes on the floor.

There was a brief silence which the visitor found most irksome. "Is that enough?" he asked.

"I guess so," responded Payner. "I don't believe you'll be troubled by any more plagues."

"Thank you," said Duncan, humbly; "and I hope you won't say much about the affair. It would be pretty tough to have all the fellows guying us."

Payner grinned. "That's a good deal to ask, but I shan't talk about it if you don't."

Five seconds later, with the door of his own room safely closed behind him, Duncan was laughing and capering and tossing his brother's show hat into the air, and rolling on the couch in the gorgeous waistcoat. Presently, however,[Pg 264] he bethought himself that time was passing, threw the hat under the sofa, hung the waistcoat in the closet under Donald's light overcoat, and returned the borrowed necktie to the drawer. Then, after resuming his regular costume, he stole forth to waylay Donald after the latter's recitation and inform him that a hat which looked like his was lying under the sofa, and that if he would take the trouble to remove the top layer of garments in the closet he might find his vest. It was with real regret that he refrained from rehearsing certain events of the morning, but the usually appreciative twin was the last person of whom in this case he could make a confidant.

Toward noon Duncan, who was bursting with his secret, espied Owen coming up the stairs, and forthwith haled him into his room. "I say, Bobby, what do you think has happened?" he demanded eagerly.

Rob glanced around the room. "Another plague, I suppose," he said, "though I don't see any signs of it. You look pretty happy for a fellow who's been seeing snakes."

[Pg 265]

"No snakes and no more plagues!" cried Duncan, gleefully.

"How's that?" demanded Owen.

"We've come to terms. From now on Mr. Payner and we are friends. He's a great fellow for bugs, but when you really want help in time of need, just call on old Odysseus!" Whereupon he slapped himself on the chest and his visitor on the back and danced around the table. Later, after trying to exact a pledge of secrecy, he told his story with much detail and scroll-work; and finally he stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and strutted up and down before his visitor, declaring that if he was not as great as Cicero who saved a state, he was at least the equal of the infant Hercules who killed a snake, and certainly greater than Laoco?n, who let the snakes do him up. The sudden arrival of Donald threw the actor into some confusion.

An hour later Rob sat at his table staring vacantly at an open book, and musing on the adventures of the Peck family. A knock at the door was followed by the appearance of Payner on the threshold.

[Pg 266]

"Simmons out?" asked the caller, laconically.

"Yes," Rob replied. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to tell him he needn't worry any more about that snake. I suppose he told you about it?" he added with a shrewd grin.

"Yes, he did."

"I knew he would. And he told the Pecks too?"

Rob laughed but said nothing.

"Oh, he told them all right. You needn't pretend he didn't. I knew he would, or I shouldn't have shown him the thing. I meant him to tell them."

"You really wouldn't have put that snake in their room!" said Rob, severely.

"Why not? It wasn't alive."

"A dead snake wouldn't be much better than a live one."

"It wasn't dead either," chuckled Payner. "It was made of an old black necktie stuffed, with glass eyes, and its head worked with a string. I got it up to scare the Pecks through Simmons. I knew he'd go and tell them just as soon as he[Pg 267] saw it, and I thought that would bring 'em round. You see, the plague business was playing out, anyway. The last time I tried it the housekeeper came pretty near getting on to it, and I didn't dare take any more risks. And yet if I stopped without getting the apology, they'd have me beaten! So I tried this scheme, and won out. They've both apologized."

"I see," said Rob. As a matter of fact, he did not see, for he was trying to determine for himself who had outwitted the other.

"Just tell Simmons I've given up my plan of the snake, won't you?" said Payner, turning to go with the air of a victor. "And don't let on about the rest of it. I shouldn't want it to get back to the Pecks."

For some seconds Rob sat looking blankly at the door through which the self-satisfied face of Payner had just disappeared. Then he threw back his head and laughed loud and long.