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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 26. A Lively Game |
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_ CHAPTER XXVI. A LIVELY GAME When the Farnham Hall baseball team came out for practice that afternoon they found another team on the field. This team was dressed in blue suits, and on the breast of each shirt was a large white letter M. Frank Merriwell had found these old suits stored away and brought them forth. At sight of them his friends were seized with the old-time enthusiasm for the great American game, and it did not take them long to get into the suits and onto the field. "What's this?" cried Dale Sparkfair, as he surveyed Merry's team. "We seem to have intruders here. We'll have to put them off the field, boys. We'll have to do them up." Hans Dunnerwurst paused, with his hands on his hips, and stared at Dale. Half a dozen persons shouted at the Dutchman, but he failed to heed their warning, and a ball thrown at him struck him on the head, bounding off. "Hey!" squawked Hans. "Who threw me at dot brick? Vos dot der vay you vill dood us upness? Py Chiminy! You fellers vant to vade right in und let it try you. I pelief ve can play paseball all aroundt yoursellufs. You vos challenched to meet us a game into. Yah! Vill you exception dot challench?" "Where's the interpreter?" asked Spark. "Der vot?" "The interpreter." "Vot you vant py him?" "You need some one to interpret your conversation, my Irish friend." "Irish? Irish?" yelled Hans, in exasperation. "Don'd you callt mineselluf Irish! Parney Mulloy vos der only Irishman der party into, und he vos der greenest pogtrotter dot efer come der Emerald Isle oudt uf." "G'wan, yer Dutch chaze!" said Barney. "Go talk to yersilf. Nobody understands yez at all, at all." "If you're looking for practice, Dale," said Frank, "perhaps we can accommodate you. We feel like playing a little baseball ourselves." "Yah!" put in Hans, who declined to be repressed. "Ve pelief der game uf paseball can play us some. Der practice vos oudt uf us a whole lot, but all der same ve vill dood our pest to dood you up. Between der acts I vill gif you a melodious selection der flute on. Der flute brought me vid it to der paseball groundt." "Av you attimpt to toot thot flute, Oi'll hit ye wid a bat!" growled Mulloy. "Oh, you vos chealous--you vos chealous pecause der flute coot not play you!" sneered Dunnerwurst. "As Spokeshire observations, 'Show me der man who haf not music into his soul alretty, und I vill show you a son uf a gun dot vos fit for blotting assinations, general defiltry und all padness.' Dot vos you, Parney Mulloy." The idea of playing a practice game with Merry's team delighted the Farnham Hall lads, and arrangements were quickly made. "I presume you'll give us a show, Mr. Merriwell," said Sparkfair. "Are you going to pitch?" "I don't think I'll start the game," said Merry. "I vill pitch mineselluf," announced Hans. "I vos der createst paseball pitcher dot efer seen you." Sparkfair flipped a coin, and the choice of innings fell to Merry. "We'll take the field," said Frank. "Go behind the bat, Hodge. Dunnerwurst will pitch. You'll play your old position at first, Browning. Diamond will cover second, and we'll have Mulloy on third. I'll play short." "The middle lawn for me," announced Ephraim Gallup. "That's all right," nodded Frank. "Badger will take left field and Carson right field." When the players had taken these positions Dunnerwurst held up his hand and asked permission to pitch a few over the plate. "Chust gif me the privilege of letting my arm limber me up, vill you?" "Go ahead," laughed Sparkfair. Hodge adjusted the body protector and pulled on the big catching mitt. "Keep open your eye for der curf uf der ball," warned Hans. "Uf I use too much speed for you, chust let me tell you so." He presented a comical spectacle as he flourished, his arm with a windmill motion and delivered the ball to Bart. It was high and wide, but Hodge cuffed it down. "Ho! ho!" shouted the Dutchman. "Did dot rise see you? Vosn't it a peauty, Part?" "That was a great rise!" said Hodge. "Better try a drop next time. Get 'em lower." On receiving the ball Hans made another flourishing motion, shut his eyes, and threw the sphere with great force straight at the ground in front of him. "Mine cootness!" he gasped. "I vill haf to look oudt for dot drop. It vos a corker." "Better start off with a straight ball," advised Hodge. "Give these youngsters a show. They can't hit your curves, Hans." "I pelief me," nodded Dunnerwurst soberly. "Your advice vill took me." A few moments later he announced that he was ready, and Bob Bubbs stepped out as the first batter. Hans hit Bob with the first ball pitched, and Kilgore, who was umpiring, sent Towser to first. "Vy did you not dotge?" demanded Dunnerwurst, in exasperation. "Any vun vould pelief der ball did not see you coming. Vos you plind your eyesight in?" "Oh, I knew I couldn't hit," chuckled Bubbs, "so I got hit. That's part of the game." "Veil, mebbe dot vos so, but you don'd pelief it. Der next man vill haf something different to did." Netterby was the next man. After pitching a ball behind Net's back and another one over his head, Hans managed to get one across the pan. Net hit it and drove it out of the diamond, although Mulloy made a desperate effort to reach it. "Vat vos you goot for, you Irish pogtrotter?" demanded Hans. "Vy did dot ball not stop you?" "G'wan! g'wan!" retorted Barney. "It was a clane hit, Dutchy." "You dood not pelief it. I vill haf to struck efry patter oudt. Der vos no udder vay when a pitcher gets dot kind of rotten suppordt." Hiram Bemis stood forth to the plate and waited until Dunnerwurst had pitched four balls. The bases were filled, and Hans began to growl at Kilgore. "Vere did der umpiring efer learn you?" he demanded. "Gol ding it!" shouted Ephraim Gallup from the field. "Yeou didn't git one of them balls within four feet of the pan! Yeou can't pitch! Yeou never could! Better let me go in and show 'em haow to pitch." "Go avay pack and sit down," advised Hans derisively. "You vould dood a lot uf goot uf you vould pitch, vouldn't you!" "If I couldn't do better than yeou're doing naow, I'd never play another game of baseball!" retorted Gallup. "He's envious," said Sparkfair. "Don't listen to him. I know you'll strike me out. You can't help it." The first ball pitched to Spark happened to be just where he wanted it. He met it squarely and drove it Over Carson's head in right field. It was a clean three-bagger, and three runs came in. "Well, I think that will about do for you, Hans," said Frank. "Come in here, Gallup, if you want to show what you can do." Ephraim promptly accepted the invitation and came galloping in from the field. "You vill be a peach!" sneered Hans, as he passed Gallup. "I vos ashamed for you alretty soon." "I can't do any worse than you done if I tried a month!" retorted Ephraim. After warming up a bit, Gallup pitched to Hollis. Fred dropped a Texas Leaguer over the infield, and Sparkfair scored. Dunnerwurst whooped derisively. Then came young Joe Crowfoot, who also connected with the ball, lacing it out cleanly for two bases. Hollis scored from first. "They seem to be hitting you, Ephraim," observed Frank. "Jest wait a minute," observed Gallup. "I ain't settled down yet." Jack Lander wearily dragged his feet out to the plate, stood there with his eyes shut and permitted Kilgore to call two strikes on him. "I've gut him," thought Ephraim. "He's in a trance." Gallup attempted to put another one straight over, but to his consternation Lander woke up, hit the ball a crack and drove it skimming along the ground out of the diamond. "You vos a dandy--you vas a dandy!" squawked Dunnerwurst. Perspiration started out on Ephraim's face, and he looked decidedly annoyed. His annoyance reached a climax when Brooks landed on the ball for two bases, scoring Crowfoot and Lander. "I guess that's enough for me, Frank," said Ephraim, as he walked out of the box. "I kinder judge you'll have to go in yourself. Them fellers has made seven runs, and there ain't a tarnal man out." "Yes, it's about time for you to go in, Merry," nodded Hodge. Frank thought so himself. Gallup retired to his regular position in center field. Dunnerwurst took right field, and Carson came in to play short. Merry entered the box. And Thad Barking astonished every one by lacing out a clean single. Following this Bob Bubbs put up a foul, which was captured by Hodge. Brooks was caught off his base, and the agony ended when Netterby struck out. Merriwell's team came to bat, facing the handicap of seven runs. _ |
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