CHAPTER XXX THE STING OF DEFEAT.

In their hotel at Elkton the boys had one room which was used exclusively as a “dressing room.” In it was kept all the paraphernalia which they carried on the tour.

After the game they hurried silently to the hotel, few words passing on the way.

In the dressing room they were very quiet. Dade Morgan came over to Frank, speaking in a low tone.

“I’m sorry, Merry,” he said simply.

“We can’t win all the games,” answered Frank.

“But this was a hard game to lose.”

“Almost any game is a hard one to lose.”

The defeated players sat around meditatively as they slowly stripped off their playing clothes. Connected with the room there was a bath with a shower. One after another they jumped under the shower, turned on the cold spray, drenched themselves thoroughly, jumped out, rubbed down until glowing, and then dressed.

“That was a great catch you made in the second inning, Hans,” said Browning.

“Oh, I don’d know apout dot,” retorted the Dutchman. “Id peen nottings peside der pall vot caught you ven Chack threw him so high der first innings indo.”

“Say, Badg, you nipped Glade beautifully in the fourth,” said Rattleton. “Hodge made a great throw. Glade thought he had the sack purloined.”

“I noticed you were backing me up all right,” said the Kansan.

“I saw you were going to cover the bag. I was playing too deep to cover it for the throw.”

Starbright slapped Morgan on the shoulder.

“You had ’em guessing, my boy.”

“Rot!” growled Dade. “I’ve got a crockery wing. It went back on me in a pinch. Still I might have stayed in the game. I’m afraid I squealed.”

Then they all sat still some moments. Of a sudden Browning turned on Morgan.

“Why didn’t you cover first when I went off after that foul in the third?” he rumbled, frowning. “We could have made a double play on it.”

“Oh, go on!” retorted Dade. “It wasn’t your ball. Why didn’t you let Hodge have it and stick to the bag? Play your own position and you’ll do better.”

“You made a nice mess in muffing that short throw from Hodge in the seventh!” snarled Rattleton, glaring at Badger. “That let in a run. Why don’t you do your neeping slights—I mean your sleeping nights?”

“Oh, you haven’t anything to say!” fiercely retorted the Kansan. “You muffed the ball when I picked up Tinker’s grounder and snapped it to you.”

“How did I know you was going to snap it underhand that way? You had plenty of time.”

With the exception of Merry, the whole team seemed growling and snarling all at once.

Underneath it all, however, Frank saw the real true spirit that longs for victory. They were not really malicious, but each man was to do his level best and to have every other man do the same.

“We lost the game, fellows, and it’s no use to kick,” said Merry. “I think every man did his best. I know I did. It was poor enough. We’ll have to swallow defeat and go out for the next game we play.”

“It would be different if we could get another crack at these fellows,” muttered Ready, all his usual flippancy gone.

“We’d eat ’em!” roared Badger fiercely.

“You’d have quite a job with that man Wolfers on the pitcher’s plate,” said Merry. “He’s the cleverest twirler we’ve encountered this season.”

“But he knows he’s good,” rumbled Browning. “That’s what’s the matter with him. He keeps boring it into the opposing players.”

“For the purpose of rattling them. That’s a part of his game. A man as clever as he is don’t need to resort to that trick; but Wolfers does it. He learned it in the small leagues and independent teams. He’ll get over it if he gets into fast company.”

“We ought to haf peen fast enough vor him,” said Hans. “Didn’t dot pall hit me righdt indo der handts uf Dinker? I hat id lapeled four pases vor. Id peen roppery for der pall der catch him dot vay.”

Again Hans seemed on the verge of shedding tears.

“Does this end it, Merry?” asked Rattleton. “Can’t we get another game with these fellows?”

“Do you want to play them again?”

“Do I? Ask me!”

“How about the others?”

Every man was on his feet, clamoring for another game.

“We’ll beat them or die trying!” cried Ready. “Do get another game with them, Frank!”

“Do!” echoed all the others.

“But make it far enough off so you can pitch yourself,” said Starbright.

“Oh, I know I didn’t make good, Dick!” snapped Morgan. “No need to rub it in!”

“But you did make good until you pitched your arm off,” said the big, blond chap quickly. “I didn’t mean to cast any stones your way.”

“All right,” said Dade. “I know when I’m outclassed, and Wolfers was too good for me. I had to pitch my arm off after he went into the box.”

“Cutts was something of a cinch!” snickered Badger. “Why didn’t they keep him in? We’d rolled up fifty runs. That’s whatever!”

“Oh, great and mighty chieftain!” cried Ready, his flippant air returning; “we beseech thee to arrange another game with the frisky Elks of Elkton. We wish to wipe out the stain. Give us a chance and see us do a bit of fancy wiping.”

“I’ll do my best, fellows,” promised Frank. “But you know I’ll not be able to pitch for at least three or four more days. I don’t know whether I hurt my ankle much to-day or not. Once or twice I gave it a twist. If I’d put some one else in and let him throw the ball over the pan, it would have been better. But I thought I might save the game. This game may be a bad thing for the Elks. It may frighten the other teams in the league.”

“Go after another game right away, Frank,” urged Bart. “Put it far enough off so your ankle will get strong. We must redeem ourselves.”

The others were just as anxious. Frank found every man on the team was yearning to wipe out the disgrace of defeat, so he agreed to see Jack Lawrence, the manager of the Elks, and try to arrange another game.