The batting game of the Catalpas was better than that of the Jonesvillians, as all previous encounters had shown. But the fielding of the Jonesville boys was far better than that of any other nine with whom they had measured their strength and skill. And Larry Boyne, a fresh-faced and laughing young man from Sugar Grove, but a member of the Jonesville Nine, was the champion catcher of the whole region. So long as the Jonesville Nine held on to Larry, they felt sure of victory. Larry Boyne was a trifle shorter than the average of his comrades. His round and well-poised head was covered with a shock of curly flaxen hair, and his sturdy legs, muscular arms and ample chest gave token of a large stock of reserved power. “That’s the best looking Jonesvillian of them all” was the secret thought of many an observant girl and the open criticism of many a loud-talking spectator.
This is the manner of placing the two Clubs:—
Catalpas.
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Lewis Morris, L.F.
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Charlie King, P.
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Hart Stirling, 2nd B.
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Will Sprague, 3rd B.
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John Brubaker, R.F.
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Hiram Porter, 1st B.
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George Buckner, C.F.
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Albert Heaton, C.
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Ben Burton, S.S.
Jonesvilles.
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Studley, 2nd B.
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Larry Boyne, C.
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Morrison, 1st B.
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Ellis, P.
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Wheeler, C.F.
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Martin, L.F.
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Simpson, 3rd B.
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Berthelet, R.F.
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Alexander, S.S.
The Catalpas won the toss and went to the field, with due consideration for the improvement of their chances in the final innings, and the game began with a comfortable feeling pervading the champions of the home nine. The winning of the toss was a good omen, everybody thought.
A buzz of half-suppressed excitement swept over the field as Studley, of the Jonesville Nine, went first to the bat. He sent a low ball to second base which Hart Stirling failed to hold, and Studley got to first base. Larry Boyne followed and sent up a sky-high ball, and Studley, having stolen to second and third base, got safely home, while Larry reached second base. Morrison sent a good right fielder, on which he got halfway around, while Larry, with a rush, made the home run, adding one more to the score of the Jonesvilles. Alice bit her lip with vexation, but some of the more magnanimous of the townspeople commented, under their breath, “Good for the red-cheeked Irishman!”
Great things were expected of Ellis, the champion pitcher of the Jonesvillians, who went next to the bat, and who was reckoned as nearly as good with the bat as with the ball; but he made a poor strike, and, with a long-drawn “Oh‑h‑h!” from the sympathetic friends of the home club, the ball dropped near the home base and the young champion of Jonesville went out on his first. Next, Morrison, in his haste to get to third base, was put out by Will Sprague, and the fortunes of the visitors visibly waned. Wheeler, who went next to the bat, provoked a murmur of approbation from the spectators, who were now warming up to the game, and who admired the handsome proportions and springy movements of the center fielder of the Jonesvillers. He sent a resounding ball safely to the right field, got to first base, but, overrunning the second base, was neatly put out by Hart Stirling, the second baseman of the Catalpas. Thus closed the innings—two runs for the visiting Nine.
“Not much to brag of,” remarked Bill Van Orman, the big pitcher of the Dean County Nine. “Not much to brag of, and I don’t think that the Jonesvillians are feeling first rate over this. Let them wait until Al Heaton and Charlie King get after them. Then they’ll sing small, I allow.”
“Hush up, you, there goes Lew Morris to the bat for the Catalpas. He’ll show them something. Look at that chist of his! Golly! don’t I remember him, though!” remarked Hank Mitchell.
Lew Morris, tall, handsome and sinewy, deserved the praises lavished upon him, as he stood, modestly but confidently, to open the innings for the Catalpas. But, to the great disappointment of his admirers, he failed to make a hit and was sent to first base on three called balls. Charlie King justified the expectations of his friends by striking a tremendous ball to right field, on which Lew Morris tallied one, but in trying to get to second base, was put out by Studley in excellent style. Hart Stirling followed, making the first quarter, and Will Sprague went to second base on a strong hit to right field, which brought Stirling home. John Brubaker next went to the bat, with an air of serene confidence, but he failed to satisfy the expectations of the onlookers, and went out on a foul tip.
“Your champions do not seem to be in good condition, today, Alice,” said the Judge, demurely. “I am just beginning to become interested in the game, and I must say that I shouldn’t like to see the Catalpas beaten.”
“Thank you, papa,” said Alice, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I thought you would get waked up if you once saw the play and realized how much depends on the game today.”
“It’s the championship of the Northern District, is it not, my child?”
“Yes, and if the Catalpas don’t win now, I am afraid—well, I don’t know what I am afraid of. But they will be dreadfully discouraged.”
“So shall I be,” said the Judge, gravely turning his eyes to the stand, where Hiram Porter, the first baseman of the home nine, and an honor man in his class at Ann Arbor, had taken up the bat. Hiram retrieved the failing fortunes of the Catalpas by a powerful ball to center field on which he reached the first base. George Buckner, who followed, sent a high ball which was beautifully caught by Studley, on second base, amidst murmurs of applause, as if the townsmen and townswomen of the Catalpas were
