So, as Larry’s glance lighted on the first box to the right of the grandstand, it caught an answering smile from Miss Alice, and Albert Heaton, who was momentarily fluttering about the box, waved his hand to the favorite third baseman of the Catalpas and said, under his breath, “Sail in, old boy!”
“You don’t imagine that Mr. Boyne heard that, do you, in all this noise?” asked Alice, with rosy face and sparkling eyes.
“No, I don’t suppose that Larry heard or saw anything but what he saw and guessed at in that telegraphic look of yours, Miss Ally,” replied Albert, mockingly. “Larry, the dear boy, knows well enough what I would be saying to him; and I hope he knows what you would be telegraphing him by way of encouragement. Hurrah! Hiram has won the toss! He’ll send the Calumets to the bat, see if he don’t.”
Albert was right. The home club were sent to the bat, and Thomas Walsh, of the Black Hawks, took his place as umpire. This was the order in which the two clubs were named and stationed on that eventful day:—
Catalpas.
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Larry Boyne, 3rd B.
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Samuel Morrison, L.F.
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Neddie Ellis, C.F.
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Charlie King, P.
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Hart Stirling, 2nd B.
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John Brubaker, R.F.
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Hiram Porter, 1st B. (Capt.)
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Ben Burton, S.S.
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Wm. Van Orman, C.
Calumets.
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Darius Ayres, 1st B. (Capt.)
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Samuel Morse, P.
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John Handy, 3rd B.
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Rob Peabody, R.F.
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Thomas Shoff, C.F.
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Glenn Otto, S.S.
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James Kennedy, 2nd B.
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Charlie Webb, C.
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James McWilliams, L.F.
The Catalpa boys thought there should have been breathless silence in the enclosure as Hiram Porter, having carefully placed his men, called to the umpire “play!” Play was accordingly called, but there was silence, by no means, in the grounds. The clatter of late comers reaching their seats, the buzz of conversation that yet arose from the crowds in the amphitheater, and the cry of boys selling scorecards disturbed the serenity of the ardent champions of the Catalpa Nine. They wondered why people should talk when so momentous a game was about opening. And Alice, with a feverish sigh of impatience, said to Miss Ida that she should think that the Chicago people had very little manners. Whereupon Miss Anstress, with great severity, said that the spectators were not so much in love with the players that they cared a pin whether either side won. This unkind remark was turned aside by Mr. Heaton who said that there were not a few among the onlookers who had bet money in the gambling rooms outside and who did care very much which side won the game.
All this talk was brought to an end when Darius Ayres, the captain of the Calumets, stood up at the bat and made ready for the first play. Darius was a tall and shapely young fellow, renowned for his long-field hits, and a swift runner. He had an evil look in his eyes, as some of the Catalpa visitors thought, and when he struck a straight ball, like a cannon shot, to right field, there was a little shudder in one of the private boxes. But John Brubaker, always alert, captured it on a hard run. This put the Catalpas in good spirits at once. The game had opened well for them. “Two good signs, Alice,” said Ida Boardman. “Won the toss and caught out the first man!”
John’s clever catch did not pass unnoticed, for the numerous supporters of the Catalpas raised a little cheer which was taken up and continued around the enclosure as Sam Morse went to the bat for the home club. But Samuel fared no better than his captain, and retired on a short and easy fly to Ben Burton. The first half of the inning was ended by John Handy, who hit a hot grounder to Larry Boyne at third base. Larry mastered it in fine style and made a lightning throw to Hiram Porter on first base. The eyes of the visitors and their friends fairly sparkled as the Catalpas came in from the field. They had made a good beginning.
But no sooner had the nine reached the players’ bench than Ben Burton began to criticise the manner in which honest John Brubaker had been rewarded for capturing what Ben was pleased to call “a two-old-cat fly.” Larry, politely requesting Burton to be civil, picked up his bat and faced the pitching of the renowned Sam Morse. He made two ineffectual plunges at the ball, and, while the catcher of the Calumets was adjusting his mask so as to enable him to come up closer to the player, Larry stole a glance at his comrades and was mortified and annoyed to see a derisive smile on the blonde face of Ben Burton, while the other seven occupants of the bench wore an uneasy expression. Ben Burton was evidently making them uncomfortable. Larry moistened his hands, and, carefully gauging one of Morse’s favorite in-shoots, hit the ball with all his might. The flying sphere went swiftly into the left field and yielded the stalwart third baseman of the Catalpas two bases. Alice involuntarily clapped her hands, happily unmindful of the sour looks of her observant aunt.
Sam Morrison next stood up before the redoubtable Morse, and hit an easy grounder to Glenn Otto, at shortstop, and Samuel was retired at first base. His shot, however, advanced Larry to third base, and Neddie Ellis took up the bat. But Neddie could not yet understand the puzzling curves of the Calumets’ pitcher, and, having wildly struck the air three times, went out. This made two out for the Catalpas, with Larry Boyne anxiously waiting on the third base. Not long did he wait, however, for Charlie King, long of limb and
