The Calumets now went to work with a will at the beginning of their second inning, and, after receiving some hints from Jamie Kennedy, who assumed to know a little about the mysteries of King’s curves, Robert Peabody, the Calumets’ right fielder, a Michigan University man and a famous athlete, handled the bat and called for a low ball from the pitcher of the Catalpas. This was delivered, but not where Rob had asked for it, and he politely refused to strike at it, muttering to Captain Darius, “I won’t strike until I get one just knee-high.” Charlie King overheard this little byplay and continued to put the ball in the vicinity of Peabody’s shoulder until the umpire called “six balls.” It was now about time for King to give the Chicago player a good ball, but Peabody could not be tempted to strike at it, after being ordered by his captain to try and take his base on called balls. The result was that tricky Charlie King delivered three balls in rapid succession just where the dissatisfied right fielder of the Calumets had requested them, and the umpire called, “One strike!” “Two strikes!” “Three strikes!” “Striker out!”
The ashen stick was then taken up by Tom Shoff, who sent the ball in the direction of Ben Burton at shortstop, and who fumbled it, dropping it several times as if it were a hot potato, allowing Tom to reach first base in safety. Next, Glenn Otto hit a ball to Hiram Porter who fielded it handsomely, putting out the striker but allowing Shoff to go to second base. While Jamie Kennedy was at the bat, a passed ball allowed Shoff to complete three quarters of his homeward journey. With two out and a man on third base, Captain Porter naturally felt alarmed. He cautioned his men to be cool and careful, “especially cool,” he added. After two strikes were called on Kennedy, he solved one of Charlie King’s in-shoots and, to the delight of the Chicago onlookers, sent the ball rolling in center field while Shoff sped swiftly homewards; and the score stood 1 and 1. The Calumets’ half of the inning was ended by the retiring of Webb on a foul fly to “The Lily,” as Bill Van Orman was now universally called. The Catalpa boys were not disheartened; they had confidence in each other, and they went to work again with a determination to try and recover what they had lost. In the second inning, however, they found themselves unsuccessful. Hart Stirling was fielded out at first base by Jamie Kennedy; John Brubaker, following him, met with the same fate, being thrown out at first by Glenn Otto; and Hiram Porter ended the inning by hitting a skyscraper to James McWilliams at left field.
There was intense depression in the Catalpa section and among the nine of that famous town; only the face of Larry Boyne still bore any semblance of contentment. Larry smiled with his attempt to infuse a little more hopefulness into the Catalpa bosom. And looking to the box where Mr. Heaton’s tall white hat towered conspicuously, he caught an answering smile from the young lady who carried a blue parasol.
The score now stood even at even innings, and the faces of the Chicago players wore a broad smile of complacency in place of the gloomy look that had previously been their characteristic expression. Full of confidence, James McWilliams picked out his favorite bat and faced “Tricky Charlie,” as they had already dubbed the pitcher of the visitors. King was determined to retire this particular player, as “Mac” had often expressed a desire to “take the conceit out of that chap from Catalpa.” Charlie did some of his fine work for the occasion and his friend McWilliams threw down his bat in disgust, after hearing the third strike called by the umpire; and Captain Darius Ayres, with a look of vengeful determination, took the place vacated by his club mate. He hit a sharp grounder between first and second bases and reached the first bag. At this point of the game, the boys from Catalpa had lost some of the hope that they had cherished at the beginning of the contest; and they were not cheered in the least by a sarcastic smile that adorned the face of their shortstop, Ben Burton, who appeared to be almost glad that the chances of his own club were diminishing, instead of increasing.
Even from her distant point of vantage, Alice Howell, scanning Ben’s sour face through her field glass, saw with uneasiness that forbidding look and said, in a tragic whisper to her companion, “Ida, if that scamp could throw the game, I believe he is mean enough to do it.”
Sam Morse made a base hit to the right field, and Ayres went safely home to third base, while Morse stole to second base. With second and third bases occupied and but one man out, the Catalpas did not feel in jovial mood, and the deputy sheriff of Dean County looked around upon the bright faces of the local spectators with the air of one who is indignant at an outrage which he is powerless to abate.
The next man to the bat was John Handy, who had the reputation of being “a slugger,” and as he called out in a stern voice, “Give me a low ball, and I’ll knock it’s cover off,” some of the
