Dick Merriwell's Day; Or, Iron Nerve

Title: Dick Merriwell's Day; Or, Iron Nerve

Author: Burt L. Standish

Release date: January 14, 2020 [eBook #61174] Most recently updated: October 17, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61174

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

A half million enthusiastic followers of the Merriwell brothers will attest the unfailing interest and wholesomeness of these adventures of two lads of high ideals, who play fair with themselves, as well as with the rest of the world.

These stories are rich in fun and thrills in all branches of sports and athletics. They are extremely high in moral tone, and cannot fail to be of immense benefit to every boy who reads them.

They have the splendid quality of firing a boy’s ambition to become a good athlete, in order that he may develop into a strong, vigorous right-thinking man.

In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.

There is a greater appreciation of athletic sports among Americans than among people of any other nationality.

We have had definite proof of this in the correspondence occasioned by our publication of the adventures of Frank and Dick Merriwell. These two boys are active athletes. They are proficient in every line of sport, and they play fair or not at all.

This last feature of the Merriwell stories fills our daily mail with letters from readers who say that they appreciate the integrity and fairness of the Merriwells more than words can tell.

These books, while of greatest interest to the right-thinking boy are educational and make for the development of a character which will enable the average boy to meet his fellows fairly and squarely in the battle of life.

Every reader, young and old, has heard of Jack Harkaway. His remarkable adventures in out-of-the-way corners of the globe are really classics, and every one should read them.

Jack is a splendid, manly character, full of life and strength and curiosity. He has a number of very interesting companions, Professor Mole, for instance, who is very funny. He also has some very strange enemies, who are anything but funny.

Get interested in Jack. It will pay you.

In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.

Dick Merriwell’s Day

CHAPTER I THE GREAT CRISIS.

Fairhaven had fought desperately for the game at Seaslope, and three extra innings had been necessary to decide the contest; but the home club had won in the twelfth, the final score being four to three.

“I told you before the game began that we were going into second place to-day!” cried Sam Hyde, addressing Dick Merriwell, captain of the Fairhavens. “Hard luck for you, but we’re out for the pennant.”

“You’re not out of reach yet, are you?” retorted Dick, as he prepared to pull on his sweater. “We still have a small show, haven’t we?”

“Perhaps you may finish in third position if you can hold Maplewood down,” said the Seaslope captain. “We’re going to finish at the top, and I fancy Rockford will be in second place. It’s now a fight between you and Maplewood to see which of you escape being tail-ender.”

“Evidently you have it all settled—in your mind,” smiled Dick. “These things don’t always pan out the way they are planned.”

“Just look over our record when you get a chance,” invited Hyde. “When you’ve considered what we’ve done, it ought to satisfy you that we’re going to swipe the pennant.”

Having drawn on his sweater, Dick observed that Ray Garrett, the manager of the Fairhaven team, was looking blue and downcast. Merriwell clapped him on the shoulder and advised him to cheer up.

“It’s tough!” muttered Garrett. “This game pushed us down from second position and let Seaslope head us. If Seaslope keeps up the pace it has set, Hyde is right in thinking it will win the pennant.”

“You talk like a funeral!” exclaimed Dick. “Wait till we reach Rockford. We’ll figure over the standing of the teams after we get there. I think you will see they are well bunched.”

The recent victories of the Seaslope team had enthused its spectators, and the game this day had been witnessed by a wonderfully large crowd. Early in the season, when Seaslope was losing steadily, it had been difficult to get out a respectable gathering of spectators. Merriwell could not help thinking of the change as he watched the well-satisfied throng pouring out at the open gate of the inclosure. At last Seaslope was making money, and Jared Whitcomb, the manager of the team, was smiling and well satisfied.

“We’ve just about time enough to catch the next car for Rockford,” said Garrett, looking at his watch. “Have you picked up all the stuff, fellows? Got all the bats? Where’s the body protector? Don’t leave anything.”

Carrying their bat bags and other necessary luggage, the Fairhaven team hurried from the ground and cut across a field to reach the trolley line and intercept a car. In this manner they reached the car ahead of many who waited for it at a regular stopping place, and all the boys secured seats. It had been a hot day, and twelve hard innings had tired them to such an extent that they were glad to sit down.

“We must have that game to-morrow,” said Garrett, who had taken pains to secure a seat beside Dick. “For that reason I’m not going to send you back to the island to-night. I don’t want you to take that trip. If it should be rough to-morrow you might get shaken up coming over.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Dick; “but I thought you intended to run an excursion to-morrow.”

“I do. I’ll run it just the same. More than that, I’m going to see if I can’t stir up things on the island to-night. We must have a good big crowd of rooters with us in Rockford to-morrow. I will telephone the boys on the island and set them at work getting up a crowd. Dick, do you realize that the game to-morrow is going to be one of the hardest of the season?”

“Haven’t a doubt of it,” nodded Merriwell. “If Rockford won to-day from Maplewood, she’ll be able to hold first place to-morrow whether she loses or not; but if Maplewood won——”

“It seems likely to me,” interrupted Garrett. “Maplewood has been walloping almost everybody but us since getting her new team. A week ago I fancied Rockford might have the strongest team in the league. To-day I’m inclined to think she has the weakest.”

“Time will tell. We’ll find out how the teams stand as soon as we learn what happened in Maplewood.”

Finding the boys were inclined to accept Garrett’s rather gloomy view of the matter, Dick laughed at them and did his best to cheer them up.

“Don’t you worry about us!” cried Obediah Tubbs. “We’ll git into the game to-morrow, dern our picters! If Rockford takes a fall out of us she’ll have to get up and hump herself.”

On arriving in Rockford the boys eagerly looked over the bulletin of the Trolley League games displayed in front of the Star office.

“Great horn spoon!” cried Buckhart. “Just look at that! Maplewood lifted Rockford’s scalp to-day! Nine to two! That was doing it some!”

“The standing is what interests me now,” laughed Dick. “There it is, boys. Talk about teams being bunched! What do you think of that? Seaslope and Rockford are tied, having won twenty each and lost nineteen. Fairhaven and Maplewood are tied, having won nineteen each and lost twenty. That’s the sort of baseball to make your hair curl. It keeps everybody guessing.”

“Well, I’m bub-bub-bub-blamed glad Maplewood did beat Rockford to-day,” chuckled Chip Jolliby. “I ain’t gug-gug-gug-got no love for Maplewood, but it kinder makes things a little more even.”

The boys left the car at the Corndike Hotel, where Garrett registered for them and secured rooms for the night.

By this time the various members of the Fairhaven team were well known in Rockford, and a number of persons lingering about the hotel office hailed them one after another by name.

Whitney, the clerk, shook hands with Dick.

“Too bad you dropped that game to-day, Merriwell,” he said. “If you had won you would have been tied with us for first place. I keep a bulletin up, following the progress of the games. It was plain enough before the game at Maplewood was half finished that Rockford was going to lose, but you kept us guessing what the result would be at Seaslope. Seaslope’s recent success led some of the boys to offer odds that she would take the game to-day. I dropped a five on it myself. I took the short end, and you fellows had me dancing after the ninth inning was finished and the report came in that the score was tied. Then came the whitewash in the tenth, and another in the eleventh. We heard that you finished your half of the twelfth without scoring, and I offered up a humble supplication for you to shut Seaslope out in her half. How did they get their run?”

“Nobody to blame,” said Dick. “They earned it. Happened to have their best batters up and made a clean-earned run.”

“No fault of the umpiring?”

“If anything,” confessed Dick, “we got the best end of that.”

“Well, that’s good sporting talk!” exclaimed Whitney. “I am sick of hearing all the blame put on the umpiring. When a team loses, it generally blames the umpire. There’ll be a hot time in Rockford to-morrow. We can’t afford to let you have that game. We’re obliged to hold first position, you know.”

“Of course, you feel that way,” retorted Dick. “We have ambitions, Mr. Whitney.”

A Rockford man who had been standing near now stepped forward.

“You can find all the even money you want offered on Rockford,” he said. “I’d like to bet ten dollars myself. Where are the sports that back your team? You’re captain of it, and I suppose you’ll bet something yourself, eh?”

“I don’t make a practice of betting,” said Dick.

The man laughed in an annoying manner.

“That’s a good excuse for a weak heart,” he said. “Here’s your manager. I understand he made a heavy bet early in the season—something like five hundred dollars. He won, too. Perhaps he wants to peddle a little of that coin.”

Garrett shook his head.

“There are reasons why I can’t bet,” he said, thinking of his promise to his mother.

Again the Rockford man laughed.

“Your judgment is better than your nerve,” he declared. “Evidently you’re going to hang onto that five hundred.”

Ray flushed.

“I think you’ll find plenty of men ready to accommodate you to-morrow,” he said. “There will be an excursion from Fairhaven, and we expect a crowd.”

“Tell your people to bring all the money they are anxious to lose.”

A few moments later Garrett and Dick were alone in the room assigned to them. Ray made some figures on a piece of paper and sat frowning over them. Finally his face cleared a little, and he began to laugh.

“What is it?” questioned Dick.

“I was just thinking of what might happen to-morrow. Fairhaven plays Rockford, while Maplewood goes against Seaslope. What if both Fairhaven and Maplewood win? Have you thought about that?”

“Haven’t given it much thought yet,” said Dick. “Let me see, both Fairhaven and Maplewood are one game behind at present. If they win to-morrow—why, every team in this league will be tied!”

“That’s exactly what will happen,” nodded Ray. “Wouldn’t that be remarkable? If the two tail-end teams win to-morrow every team in this league will have won twenty games and lost twenty games. With the season so far advanced, I don’t believe such a thing ever happened before in any league. Jingoes, wouldn’t it kick up some excitement!”

“It would be the best thing that could happen for the league,” said Dick. “But let’s do a little more figuring. If we defeat Rockford and Seaslope wins from Maplewood, Seaslope will take first position, while we will be tied with Rockford for second.”

“That’s correct,” said Garrett. “But if we lose and Maplewood wins, we go clean to the bottom. To-day we had a chance to be tied for first place and lost it. Another defeat may put us into last place. Dick, I confess I’m worried about that game to-morrow. Win it if you can.”

“I promise you that every man on the team will do his level best,” said Dick.

CHAPTER II TOM FERNALD’S PROPOSITION.

Tom Fernald, the Rockford manager, returned home in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. He had counted on victory, and defeat had cost him some good money. Having heard of the result at Seaslope, he also figured over the standing of the teams, and his anxiousness increased as he fully realized the critical nature of the situation. He knew enough about baseball to understand that fortune had favored Rockford in many instances, and enabled her to retain first place. At one time he had encouraged Seaslope and rejoiced in her victories over Fairhaven and Maplewood, little dreaming the team was likely to become a dangerous antagonist for first position at the end of the season.

He had felt satisfied over the success of Maplewood with a new team, being confident that Rockford would not suffer through this success. Now the complexion of things had changed greatly. The loss of two more games might push Rockford down and make an opportunity for those who had previously criticised him and his management to say, “I told you so.”

Fernald dropped off the car at the Corndike and came face to face with Brad Buckhart, of the Fairhavens, as he entered the hotel.

“How do you do, Buckhart?” he nodded. “So you had hard luck yourself, did you? It must have been a hot game. Twelve innings, was it?”

“Yes, twelve warm ones,” nodded the Texan.

“You did well to hold Seaslope down in such a manner. Didn’t think you could do it. Those fellows have a hard team to beat over there. How were the hits?”

“They made one more than we did.”

“And the errors?”

“Neither team made an error to-day.”

Fernald whistled.

“By Jove! that was a great game. What are you going to do to-morrow?”

Brad grinned.

“We’re going to do our level best to make you hump yourself, Mr. Fernald,” he replied. “We’ll have my pard in the box to-morrow, and you know what that means.”

“Then Merriwell didn’t pitch to-day?”

“No.”

“I’d like to have a little talk with you, Buckhart,” said the Rockford manager, taking Brad by the arm. “Let’s sit down over here.”

The Texan wondered why Fernald should wish to talk with him, but walked over to some chairs in a corner of the office, where they sat down quite by themselves.

“You’re a pretty good friend to Merriwell, aren’t you?” asked Fernald.

“Sure thing,” nodded Brad.

“And you’re the only catcher on the Fairhaven team?”

“I opine I am. Some of the others might go under the bat, but they don’t advertise themselves as catchers.”

“There’s no other man on the team who can hold Merriwell, is there?”

“I don’t like to get swelled up in my statements, Mr. Fernald; but I will say that Dick and I are a whole lot familiar with each other, and work pretty well together.”

The Rockford manager smiled.

“That’s right,” he confessed. “I have watched you, and you work together like machinery. Without a catcher behind the bat who knows him thoroughly and can hold him, Merriwell would not be particularly effective. Surely he couldn’t use that so-called combination ball. It would fool a catcher just as much as it fools a batter. Whatever that combination ball is, it’s a case of luck when a batter hits it fairly. Of course, I know it’s no combination rise and drop, for that’s impossible.”

“You think so,” laughed Brad. “I don’t blame you any, Mr. Fernald; but I’ll bet something some of your players will tell you it is a combined rise and drop.”

Fernald shook his head.

“I know it’s something mighty odd,” was his acknowledgment; “but reason teaches me that a ball can’t be thrown in such a manner that it will curve in one direction and reverse and curve in another. Merriwell apparently throws a rise to start with, but it’s his style of delivery that makes the ball seem to rise. He throws it with a rotary movement that finally turns it into a drop.”

“It certain appears that you’ve figured the thing out to your satisfaction; but what are you driving at?”

“It won’t make any great difference with your team if we win to-morrow,” said Fernald softly. “You will still be close enough on our heels to run us down before the season closes. It will make a big difference to me if we lose; I’ll have all the cranks in this town on my back. How would you like to make a good thing out of the game to-morrow?”

The Texan started slightly, then turned slowly and stared at his companion.

“I sure would like to make a good thing out of it,” he said, in a queer tone of voice. “That’s natural.”

“Perfectly,” nodded Fernald, fancying he had deftly secured an opening, and likewise imagining that this sturdy boy was willing to listen to a proposition. “I want to give you a pointer Buckhart. I am going to bet on the game to-morrow. There’ll be plenty of chaps ready to back your team. I am indifferent about making any money, but I don’t want to lose any.”

“It certain seems to me that you will either have to make some or lose some if you bet,” said the Westerner.

“I may win my bets without making any money.”

“I opine that’s impossible, Mr. Fernald. How can you do it?”

“Well, for instance, supposing I had it fixed with some one on your team that whatever I won should go to him in case I did win. By this I mean that if Rockford took the game I would hand over my winnings to a member of the Fairhaven team. It’s absolutely necessary, as I have explained to you, for us to stay in first position. That will be more valuable to me than any money I might win. If you can assure me that Rockford will hold her place by taking that game I will cover all the Fairhaven money that is pushed at me. You may send bettors to me and keep tabs on the amount posted. I don’t care how much is put up, as long as I stand no chance of losing.”

Brad’s left hand was lowered at his side, and he quivered a little as his fingers closed into a hard, bony fist. Although the man was not aware of it, in that moment he was in danger of being smitten by that fist.

“I reckon I understand what you mean, Mr. Fernald,” said the Texan. “You’re proposing to me that I do something to give Rockford the game?”

“There’s no need to put it thus plainly in words,” said the manager. “You are sharp enough to understand. Here is your opportunity to make a big thing. In the most natural manner you can have a passed ball at a critical point in the game. You can make bad throws to head off men stealing bases. Such things are done by the best catchers in the business. They have their yellow days. No need to excite suspicion by it. Perhaps it might not even be necessary to do anything of the sort. If Rockford had a good lead, you could play your best game and still be sure you would get the boodle when the game was over. What do you say, Buckhart? Can I depend on you?”