The fact was that the community of Catalpa was unprepared for any such victory as that which had dropped in upon them, as it were, like a bolt out of a clear sky. The defeat at Bluford had unnerved all but a few faithful and undaunted spirits, and the usual dull current of town life had resumed its sluggishness until the unexpected news from the north had startled the townsfolk into new alertness. It was a great achievement, as the Galenas were famed for their prowess in the Diamond Field. They were reckoned as first in the number of batters in their nine. One of them, Devoy, stood very near the head of the list of champion batters in the state, and another, Shallcross, was not far behind him in his general average. Yet the Catalpas had “got away with” the famous players. It was marvellous how the news flew through the town and out upon the prairie, so that by the time the moon rose, red and full, over the bluffy banks above Catalpa, in innumerable cabins and farmhouses, far out on the distant wheat-farms, and over many an evening meal, the details of the triumph and its probable effect on the fortunes of “our nine” were discussed with a glow of pride, or with a lively curiosity.
“The boys,” in Galena, resting from their labors, and withdrawn from the admiring attention of the citizens of the town, lounged in a big bedroom in the Quapaw House, and told, over and over again, the stirring incidents of the day—incidents on which so much depended that they now became almost like ancient history in importance. They were not too tired to play another game right then, so exhilarated were they by their unwonted success. There was no murmuring, no jealousy, and no nagging in the party now. Every man was elated and flushed with a sense of his own value as a factor in the game that had been played, as well as in that which was to be played on the morrow.
“Somehow, boys, I feel it in my bones that we are going to beat tomorrow,” said Larry Boyne, who had won fresh laurels in the field, that day. And Larry’s bright eyes sparkled anew as he spoke.
“Well, that’s a new role for you to play, Larry,” said Al Heaton who was admiringly hanging over Larry, whom he regarded as the rising player of the country. “You always were a croaker, you know, Larry, old boy, and for you to say that you feel confident of victory now, makes me almost shudder. It seems as if you were losing your head; only I know you are not.”
“No, old chap, I am not losing my head. But you know I am rather superstitious; at least, my mother says so, and I have a queer notion, tonight, that we are going to do as well tomorrow as we did today.”
“That’s an encouraging sign, Larry,” broke in Captain Hiram Porter. “But you fellows must all do your level best, all the same, and we mustn’t let any notion of our superiority run away with us, for we are not superior, perhaps except that I do think that we are better fielders than the Galena boys.”
“Whatever happens tomorrow, Al,” said Larry, as they broke up their sitting for the night. “Put it down that I said that we were to win the second game in this championship series.”
“And if we lose, you will charge it to some adverse fate, won’t you, Larry?”
“In the bright lexicon—you know the rest, Al.”
By a singular coincidence, at that very hour, Miss Alice Howell, writing to her father the glad news, added a postscript thus: “You will think me overconfident, but I am sure the Catalpas will win the championship.”
X
How the Good News Came
Catalpa was wide awake, next day, although the weather was hotter than ever and the little breeze that drew in from the prairie was laden with heat. The unexpected result of yesterday’s game had set everybody to speculating on the issue of this day’s contest. Some scandal was created by the appearance of Hank Jackson on the street with a roll of bills, offering to make bets on the game. It had never been the custom of anybody in Catalpa to wager anything on a baseball game, and there was some frowning now on the part of conservative and upright people; and those who were not specially conservative, but who disapproved of gaming, did not hesitate to reprove Hank in terms more forcible than elegant. Hank had spent some days in Bloomington, where he had frequented pool rooms and had acquired a taste for betting, and his brief experience was regarded by the younger portion of Catalpa with much awe and interest. He was followed about by the smaller boys of the town who listened while he bantered some of his cronies into making bets.
But public opinion in Catalpa was not yet educated to the point of engaging in gambling on the
