Название: The Zane Grey Megapack
Автор: Zane Grey
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn: 9781434446312
isbn:
A column of blue smoke was curling lazily from one of the cottages, and thither Chase made his way. He knocked on the kitchen door, which was opened by a woman.
“Good-morning,” said Chase.
“May I have a bite to eat?”
“You ain’t a tramp?” queried she, eying him shrewdly.
“No, indeed. I can pay.”
“I thought not. Tramps don’t say ‘Good-mornin’. I reckon you kin hev somethin’. Sit on the bench there.”
She brought him milk, and bread and butter, and a generous slice of ham. While he was eating, a boy came out to gaze at him with round eyes, and later a lanky man with pointed beard walked up the path, his boots wet with dew.
“Mornin’,” he said cheerily, “be yew travellin’ fur?”
“Quite far, I guess,” replied Chase. “How far is Columbus, or the first big place?”
“Wal, now, Columbus is a mighty long way, much as fifty miles, I calkilate. An’ the nearest town to hum here is Jacktown, cross fields some five miles. It’s a right pert place. It’ll be lively today, by gum!”
“Why?” said Chase, with his mouth full of ham.
“Wal, Jacktown an’ Brownsville hev it out today, an’ I’ll bet it’ll be the dog-gondest ball game as ever was.”
“Ball game!”
“You bet. Jacktown ain’t ever been beat, an’ neither has Brownsville. They’ve been some time gittin’ together, but today’s the day. An’ I’ll be there.”
“I’m going, too,” said Chase, quietly. “I’m a ball player.”
After Chase had crossed this Rubicon, he felt more confident. He knew he would have to say it often, and he wanted practice. And the importance of his declaration was at once manifest in the demeanor of the man and the boy.
“Wal, I swan! You be, be you? I might hev knowed it, a strappin’ young feller like you.”
The boy’s round eyes grew rounder and took on the solemn rapture of hero worship.
“How might I find my way to Jacktown?” inquired Chase.
“You might wait an’ ride with me. Thet road leads over, ’round about. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you, I shan’t wait. I’ll walk over. Good-day.”
Chase headed into the grassy lane without knowing exactly why. The word “game” had attracted him, as well as the respective merits of the two teams; but it was mostly that he wanted to play. After consideration, it struck him that he would do well to get into a few games before he made application to a salaried team.
He spent the morning lounging along the green lane, sitting under a tree, and on a mossy bank of a brook, and killing time in pretty places, so that when he reached Jacktown it was noon.
At the little tavern where he had lunch, the air was charged with the electricity of a coming storm. The place was crowded with youths and men of homely aspect; all were wildly excited over the baseball game. He was regarded with an extraordinary amount of interest; and finally, when a tall individual asked him if he were a ball player, to be answered affirmatively, there was a general outburst.
“He’s a ringer! Brownsville knowed they’d git beat with their home team, so they’ve loaded up!”
That was the burden of their refrain, and all Chase’s stout denials in no wise mitigated their suspicion. He was a “ringer.” To them he was an object of scorn and fear, for he had come from somewhere out of the vast unknown to wrest their laurels from them.
Outside little groups had congregated on corners and in the street, and suddenly, as by one impulse, they gathered in a crowd before the tavern. Ample reason there was for this, because some scout had sighted the approach of the visiting team. Chase gathered that Brownsville was an adjoining country town, and, since time out of mind, a hated rival.
Wagons and buggies, vehicles of all kinds and descriptions, filed by on the way to the ball-grounds; and a haywagon with a single layer of hay and a full load of husky young men stopped before the tavern. The crowd inspected the load of young men with an anxiety most manifest, and soon remarks were heard testifying that the opposing team had grace enough to come with but one ringer.
The excitement, enthusiasm, and hubbub were amusing to Chase. He knew nothing of the importance of a game of ball between two country towns. While he was standing there a slim, clean-faced young man came up to him.
“My name’s Hutchinson,” he said. “I’m the school-teacher over at Brownsville, and I’m here to catch the game for our fellows. Now, it appears there’s some fuss about you being a ringer. We don’t know you, and we don’t care what Jacktown thinks. But the fact is, our pitcher hurt his arm and can’t play. Either we play or forfeit the game. If you can pitch we’ll be glad to have you. How about it?”
Chase assented readily, and moved to the haywagon with Hutchinson, while the crowd hooted and yelled. Small boys kept up a running pace with the wagon, and were not above flinging pebbles along with shouts of defiance. At the end of the village opened up a broad green meadow, upon which was the playground. There was a barn to one side, where the wagon emptied its load; and here the young men went within to put on their uniforms.
The uniform handed to Chase was the one belonging to the disabled pitcher, who must have been a worthy son of Ajax. For Chase was no stripling, yet he was lost in its reach and girth. The color of it stunned him. Brightest of bright red flannel, trimmed with white stripes, with white cotton stockings, this gorgeous suit voiced the rustic lads’ enthusiasm for the great national game.
But when Chase went outside and saw the uniforms decorating the proud persons of the Jacktown nine, he could hardly suppress a wild burst of mirth. For they wore blue caps, pink shirts, green trousers, and red stockings. Most of them were minus shoes, and judging from their activity were as well off without them.
What was most striking to Chase, after the uniforms, was the deadly earnestness of the players of both teams. This attitude toward the game extended to the spectators crowding on the field. Chase did not need to be told that the whole of Jacktown was present and much of Brownsville.
Hutchinson came up to Chase then, tossed a ball to him, and said they had better have a little practice. After Chase had warmed up he began throwing the ball with greater speed and giving it a certain twist which made it curve. This was something he had recently learned. At first Hutchinson was plainly mystified; he could not get his hands on the ball. It would hit him on the fingers or wrists, and finally a swift in-shoot struck him in the stomach. Wherefore he came up to Chase and said:
“I never saw a ball jump like that. What’d you do to it?”
“I’m throwing curves.”
A light broke over the schoolmaster’s face, and it was one of pleasure. “I’ve read about it. You are throwing the new way. But these lads never heard of a curve. They’ll break their backs trying to СКАЧАТЬ