The Manager of Madden's Hill

by Zane Grey

Willie Howarth loved baseball. He loved itall the more because he was a cripple. The gamewas more beautiful and wonderful to him becausehe would never be able to play it. For Williehad been born with one leg shorter than the other;he could not run and at 11 years of age it wasall he could do to walk with a crutch.Nevertheless Willie knew more about baseballthan any other boy on Madden's Hill. An uncleof his had once been a ballplayer and he hadtaught Willie the fine points of the game. Andthis uncle's ballplayer friends, who occasionallyvisited him, had imparted to Willie the vernacularof the game. So that Willie's knowledge of playersand play, and particularly of the strange talk,the wild and whirling words on the lips of the realbaseball men, made him the envy of every boy onMadden's Hill, and a mine of information. Willienever missed attending the games played on thelots, and he could tell why they were won or lost.Willie suffered considerable pain, mostly atnight, and this had given him a habit of lyingawake in the dark hours, grieving over thatcrooked leg that forever shut him out of the heritageof youth. He had kept his secret well; he wasaccounted shy because he was quiet and had neverbeen able to mingle with the boys in their activity.No one except his mother dreamed of the fire andhunger and pain within his breast. His school-mates called him ``Daddy.'' It was a name givenfor his bent shoulders, his labored gait and histhoughtful face, too old for his years. And noone, not even his mother, guessed how that namehurt Willie.It was a source of growing unhappiness withWillie that the Madden's Hill boys were alwaysbeaten by the other teams of the town. He reallycame to lose his sadness over his own misfortunein pondering on the wretched play of the Madden'sHill baseball club. He had all a boy'spride in the locality where he lived. And whenthe Bogg's Farm team administered a crushingdefeat to Madden's Hill, Willie grew desperate.Monday he met Lane Griffith, the captain ofthe Madden's Hill nine.``Hello, Daddy,'' said Lane. He was a big,aggressive boy, and in a way had a fondness forWillie.``Lane, you got an orful trimmin' up on theBoggs. What 'd you wanter let them country jakesbeat you for?''``Aw, Daddy, they was lucky. Umpire had hay-seed in his eyes! Robbed us! He couldn't seestraight. We'll trim them down here Saturday.''``No, you won't--not without team work. Lane,you've got to have a manager.''``Durn it! Where 're we goin' to get one?''Lane blurted out.``You can sign me. I can't play, but I know thegame. Let me coach the boys.''The idea seemed to strike Capt. Griffithfavorably. He prevailed upon all the boys living onMadden's Hill to come out for practice afterschool. Then he presented them to the managingcoach. The boys were inclined to poke fun atDaddy Howarth and ridicule him; but the ideawas a novel one and they were in such a state ofsubjection from many beatings that they welcomedany change. Willie sat on a bench improvisedfrom a soap box and put them through adrill of batting and fielding. The next day in hiscoaching he included bunting and sliding. Heplayed his men in different positions and for threemore days he drove them unmercifully.When Saturday came, the day for the gamewith Bogg's Farm, a wild protest went up fromthe boys. Willie experienced his first bitternessas a manager. Out of forty aspirants for theMadden's Hill team he could choose but nine toplay the game. And as a conscientious managerhe could use no favorites. Willie picked the bestplayers and assigned them to positions that, inhis judgment, were the best suited to them. BobIrvine wanted to play first base and he was downfor right field. Sam Wickhart thought he was thefastest fielder, and Willie had him slated to catch.Tom Lindsay's feelings were hurt because he wasnot to play in the infield. Eddie Curtis suffereda fall in pride when he discovered he was not downto play second base. Jake Thomas, Tay-TayMohler and Brick Grace all wanted to pitch. Themanager had chosen Frank Price for thatimportant position, and Frank's one ambition wasto be a shortstop.So there was a deadlock. For a while thereseemed no possibility of a game. Willie sat on thebench, the center of a crowd of discontented,quarreling boys. Some were jealous, some wereoutraged, some tried to pacify and persuade theothers. All were noisy. Lane Griffith stood byhis manager and stoutly declared the playersshould play the positions to which they had beenassigned or not at all. And he was entering intoa hot argument with Tom Lindsay when theBogg's Farm team arrogantly put in an appearance.The way that team from the country walked outupon the field made a great difference. The spiritof Madden's Hill roused to battle. The game beganswiftly and went on wildly. It ended almostbefore the Hill boys realized it had commenced.They did not know how they had won but theygave Daddy Howarth credit for it. They had abonfire that night to celebrate the victory andthey talked baseball until their parents becamealarmed and hunted them up.Madden's Hill practiced all that next week andon Saturday beat the Seventh Ward team. Infour more weeks they had added half a dozen morevictories to their record. Their reputation wentabroad. They got uniforms, and baseball shoeswith spikes, and bats and balls and gloves. Theygot a mask, but Sam Wickhart refused to catchwith it.``Sam, one of these days you'll be stoppin' ahigh inshoot with your eye,'' sagely remarkedDaddy Howarth. ``An' then where'll I get acatcher for the Natchez game?''Natchez was the one name on the lips of everyMadden's Hill boy. For Natchez had the greatteam of the town and, roused by the growingrepute of the Hill club, had condescended to arrangea game. When that game was scheduled for JulyFourth Daddy Howarth set to driving his men.Early and late he had them out. This manager, inkeeping with all other famous managers, believedthat batting was the thing which won games. Hedeveloped a hard-hitting team. He kept everlastinglyat them to hit and run, hit and run.On the Saturday before the Fourth, Madden'sHill had a game to play that did not worryDaddy and he left his team in charge of the captain.``Fellers, I'm goin' down to the Round Houseto see Natchez play. I'll size up their game,''said Daddy.When he returned he was glad to find that histeam had won its ninth straight victory, but hewas not communicative in regard to the playing ofthe Natchez club. He appeared more than usuallythoughtful.The Fourth fell on Tuesday. Daddy had theboys out Monday and he let them take only ashort, sharp practice. Then he sent them home.In his own mind, Daddy did not have much hopeof beating Natchez. He had been greatlyimpressed by their playing, and one inning towardthe close of the Round House game they hadastonished him with the way they suddenly seemedto break loose and deluge their opponents in aflood of hits and runs. He could not understandthis streak of theirs--for they did the same thingevery time they played--and he was too good abaseball student to call it luck.He had never wanted anything in his life, noteven to have two good legs, as much as he wantedto beat Natchez. For the Madden's Hill boys hadcome to believe him infallible. He was their idol.They imagined they had only to hit and run, tofight and never give up, and Daddy would makethem win. There was not a boy on the team whobelieved that Natchez had a chance. They hadgrown proud and tenacious of their dearly wonreputation. First of all, Daddy thought of histeam and their loyalty to him; then he thought ofthe glory lately come to Madden's Hill, and lastlyof what it meant to him to have risen from a lonelywatcher of the game--a cripple who could not evencarry a bat--to manager of the famous Hill team.It might go hard with the boys to lose this game,but it would break his heart.From time out of mind there had always beenrivalry between Madden's Hill and Natchez. Andthere is no rivalry so bitter as that between boys.So Daddy, as he lay awake at night planning thesystem of play he wanted to use, left out of allaccount any possibility of a peaceful game. Itwas comforting to think that if it came to a fightSam and Lane could hold their own with BoStranathan and Slugger Blandy.In the managing of his players Daddy observedstrict discipline. It was no unusual thing for himto fine them. On practice days and off the fieldthey implicitly obeyed him. During actual play,however, they had evinced a tendency to jumpover the traces. It had been his order for themnot to report at the field Tuesday until 2 o'clock.He found it extremely difficult to curb his owninclination to start before the set time. And onlythe stern duty of a man to be an example to hisplayers kept Daddy at home.He lived near the ball grounds, yet on this day,as he hobbled along on his crutch, he thought thedistance interminably long, and for the first timein weeks the old sickening resentment at his uselessleg knocked at his heart. Manfully Daddyrefused admittance to that old gloomy visitor.He found comfort and forgetfulness in the thoughtthat no strong and swift-legged boy of hisacquaintance could do what he could do.Upon arriving at the field Daddy was amazedto see such a large crowd. It appeared that allthe boys and girls in the whole town were inattendance, and, besides, there was a sprinkling ofgrown-up people interspersed here and therearound the diamond. Applause greeted Daddy'sappearance and members of his team escorted himto the soap-box bench.Daddy cast a sharp eye over the Natchez playerspracticing on the field. Bo Stranathan hadout his strongest team. They were not a prepossessingnine. They wore soiled uniforms that didnot match in cut or color. But they pranced andswaggered and strutted! They were boastful andboisterous. It was a trial for any Madden's Hillboy just to watch them.``Wot a swelled bunch!'' exclaimed Tom Lindsay.``Fellers, if Slugger Blandy tries to pull anystunt on me today he'll get a swelleder nut,''growled Lane Griffith.``T-t-t-t-t-te-te-tell him t-t-t-to keep out ofm-m-m-my way an' not b-b-b-b-bl-block me,''stuttered Tay-Tay Mohler.``We're a-goin' to skin 'em,'' said Eddie Curtis.``Cheese it, you kids, till we git in the game,''ordered Daddy. ``Now, Madden's Hill, hanground an' listen. I had to sign articles withNatchez--had to let them have their umpire. Sowe're up against it. But we'll hit this pitcherMuckle Harris. He ain't got any steam. An' heain't got much nerve. Now every feller who goesup to bat wants to talk to Muck. Call him a bigswelled stiff. Tell him he can't break a pane ofglass--tell him he can't put one over the pan--tell him it he does you'll slam it down in the sandbank. Bluff the whole team. Keep scrappy allthe time. See! That's my game today. ThisNatchez bunch needs to be gone after. Holler atthe umpire. Act like you want to fight.''Then Daddy sent his men out for practice.``Boss, enny ground rules?'' inquired BoStranathan. He was a big, bushy-haired boy witha grin and protruding teeth. ``How many baseson wild throws over first base an' hits over thesand bank?''``All you can get,'' replied Daddy, with amagnanimous wave of hand.``Huh! Lemmee see your ball?''Daddy produced the ball that he had Lane hadmade for the game.``Huh! Watcher think? We ain 't goin' to playwith no mush ball like thet,'' protested Bo. ``Weplay with a hard ball. Looka here! We'll trowup the ball.''Daddy remembered what he had heard aboutthe singular generosity of the Natchez team tosupply the balls for the games they played.``We don't hev to pay nothin' fer them balls.A man down at the Round House makes them forus. They ain't no balls as good,'' explained Bo,with pride.However, as Bo did not appear eager to passover the balls for examination Daddy simplyreached out and took them. They were small,perfectly round and as hard as bullets. They had nocovers. The yarn had been closely and tightlywrapped and then stitched over with fine bees-waxed thread. Daddy fancied he detected adifference in the weight of the ball, but Bo took themback before Daddy could be sure of that point.``You don't have to fan about it. I know a ballwhen I see one,'' observed Daddy. ``But we'reon our own grounds an' we'll use our own ball.Thanks all the same to you, Stranathan.''``Huh! All I gotta say is we'll play with myball er there won't be no game,'' said Bo suddenly.Daddy shrewdly eyed the Natchez captain. Bodid not look like a fellow wearing himself thinfrom generosity. It struck Daddy that Bo's habitof supplying the ball for the game might havesome relation to the fact that he always carriedalong his own umpire. There was a strangefeature about this umpire business and it was thatBo's man had earned a reputation for beingparticularly fair. No boy ever had any real reasonto object to Umpire Gale's decisions. When Galeumpired away from the Natchez grounds his closedecisions always favored the other team, ratherthan his own. It all made Daddy keen andthoughtful.``Stranathan, up here on Madden's Hill weknow how to treat visitors. We'll play with yourball. . . . Now keep your gang of rooters fromcrowdin' on the diamond.''``Boss, it's your grounds. Fire 'em off if theydon't suit you. . . . Come on, let's git in thegame. Watcher want--field er bat?''``Field,'' replied Daddy briefly.Billy Gale called ``Play,'' and the game beganwith Slugger Blandy at bat. The formidable wayin which he swung his club did not appear to haveany effect on Frank Price or the player back ofhim. Frank's most successful pitch was a slow,tantalizing curve, and he used it. Blandy lungedat the ball, missed it and grunted.``Frank, you got his alley,'' called Lane.Slugger fouled the next one high in the airback of the plate. Sam Wickhart, the stockybowlegged catcher, was a fiend for running afterfoul flies, and now he plunged into the crowd ofboys, knocking them right and left, and he caughtthe ball. Whisner came up and hit safely overGriffith, whereupon the Natchez supporters beganto howl. Kelly sent a grounder to Grace at shortstop. Daddy's weak player made a poor throw tofirst base, so the runner was safe. Then BoStranathan batted a stinging ball through theinfield, scoring Whisner.``Play the batter! Play the batter!'' sharplycalled Daddy from the bench.Then Frank struck out Molloy and retiredDundon on an easy fly.``Fellers, git in the game now,'' ordered Daddy,as his players eagerly trotted in. ``Say things tothat Muckle Harris! We'll walk through thisgame like sand through a sieve.''Bob Irvin ran to the plate waving his bat atHarris.``Put one over, you freckleface! I 've been dyin'fer this chanst. You're on Madden's Hill now.''Muckle evidently was not the kind of pitcher tostand coolly under such bantering. Obviously hewas not used to it. His face grew red and hishair waved up. Swinging hard, he threw the ballstraight at Bob's head. Quick as a cat, Bobdropped flat.``Never touched me!'' he chirped, jumping upand pounding the plate with his bat. ``You couldn'thit a barn door. Come on. I'll paste one amile!''Bob did not get an opportunity to hit, for Harriscould not locate the plate and passed him to firston four balls.``Dump the first one,'' whispered Daddy inGrace's ear. Then he gave Bob a signal to runon the first pitch.Grace tried to bunt the first ball, but he missedit. His attempt, however, was so violent that hefell over in front of the catcher, who could notrecover in time to throw, and Bob got to secondbase. At this juncture, the Madden's Hill bandof loyal supporters opened up with a minglingof shrill yells and whistles and jangling of tincans filled with pebbles. Grace hit the next ballinto second base and, while he was being thrownout, Bob raced to third. With Sam Wickhart upit looked good for a score, and the crowd yelledlouder. Sam was awkward yet efficient, and hebatted a long fly to right field. The fielder muffedthe ball. Bob scored, Sam reached second base,and the crowd yelled still louder. Then Lanestruck out and Mohler hit to shortstop, retiringthe side.Natchez scored a run on a hit, a base on balls,and another error by Grace. Every time a ballwent toward Grace at short Daddy groaned. Intheir half of the inning Madden's Hill made tworuns, increasing the score 3 to 2.The Madden's Hill boys began to show thestrain of such a close contest. If Daddy hadvoiced aloud his fear it would have been: ``They'llblow up in a minnit!'' Frank Price alone wasslow and cool, and he pitched in masterly style.Natchez could not beat him. On the other hand,Madden's Hill hit Muck Harris hard, but superbfielding kept runners off the bases. As Daddy'steam became more tense and excited Bo Stranathan'splayers grew steadier and more arrogantlyconfident. Daddy saw it with distress, and hecould not realize just where Natchez had licensefor such confidence. Daddy watched the gamewith the eyes of a hawk.As the Natchez players trooped in for theirsixth inning at bat, Daddy observed a markedchange in their demeanor. Suddenly they seemedto have been let loose; they were like a band ofIndians. Daddy saw everything. He did not missseeing Umpire Gale take a ball from his pocketand toss it to Frank, and Daddy wondered if thatwas the ball which had been in the play. Straightway,however, he forgot that in the interest of thegame.Bo Stranathan bawled: ``Wull, Injuns, hyar'swere we do 'em. We've jest ben loafin' along. Gitready to tear the air, you rooters!''Kelly hit a wonderfully swift ball through theinfield. Bo batted out a single. Malloy got upin the way of one of Frank's pitches, and waspassed to first base. Then, as the Natchez crowdopened up in shrill clamor, the impending disasterfell. Dundon hit a bounder down into the infield.The ball appeared to be endowed with life. Itbounded low, then high and, cracking into Grace'shands, bounced out and rolled away. The runnersraced around the bases.Pickens sent up a tremendous fly, the highestever batted on Madden's Hill. It went over TomLindsay in center field, and Tom ran and ran.The ball went so far up that Tom had time tocover the ground, but he could not judge it. Heran round in a little circle, with hands up inbewilderment. And when the ball dropped it hithim on the head and bounded away.``Run, you Injun, run!'' bawled Bo. ``What'dI tell you? We ain't got 'em goin', oh, no! Hittin''em on the head!''Bill dropped a slow, teasing ball down the third-base line. Jake Thomas ran desperately for it,and the ball appeared to strike his hands and runup his arms and caress his nose and wrap itselfround his neck and then roll gently away. All thewhile, the Natchez runners tore wildly about thebases and the Natchez supporters screamed andwhistled. Muck Harris could not bat, yet he hitthe first ball and it shot like a bullet over theinfield. Then Slugger Blandy came to the plate. he ball he sent out knocked Grace's leg fromunder him as if it were a ten-pin. Whisnerpopped a fly over Tay Tay Mohler's head. NowTay Tay was fat and slow, but he was a surecatch. He got under the ball. It struck his handsand jumped back twenty feet up into the air. Itwas a strangely live ball. Kelly again hit toshortstop, and the ball appeared to start slow,to gather speed with every bound and at last todart low and shoot between Grace's legs.``Haw! Haw!'' roared Bo. ``They've got ahole at short. Hit fer the hole, fellers. Watchme! Jest watch me!''And he swung hard on the first pitch. The ballglanced like a streak straight at Grace, took avicious jump, and seemed to flirt with the infielder'shands, only to evade them.Malloy fouled a pitch and the ball hit SamWickhart square over the eye. Sam's eye popped outand assumed the proportions and color of a hugeplum.``Hey!'' yelled Blandy, the rival catcher. ``Airyou ketchin' with yer mug?''Sam would not delay the game nor would he donthe mask.Daddy sat hunched on his soap-box, and, as ina hateful dream, he saw his famous team go topieces. He put his hands over his ears to shut outsome of the uproar. And he watched that littleyarn ball fly and shoot and bound and roll tocrush his fondest hopes. Not one of his playersappeared able to hold it. And Grace had holesin his hands and legs and body. The ball wentright through him. He might as well have beenso much water. Instead of being a shortstop hewas simply a hole. After every hit Daddy sawthat ball more and more as something alive. Itsported with his infielders. It bounded like ahuge jack-rabbit, and went swifter and higher atevery bound. It was here, there, everywhere.And it became an infernal ball. It becameendowed with a fiendish propensity to run up aplayer's leg and all about him, as if trying to hidein his pocket. Grace's efforts to find it wereheartbreaking to watch. Every time it boundedout to center field, which was of frequentoccurrence, Tom would fall on it and hug it as if hewere trying to capture a fleeing squirrel. TayTay Mohler could stop the ball, but that was nogreat credit to him, for his hands took no part inthe achievement. Tay Tay was fat and the ballseemed to like him. It boomed into his stomachand banged against his stout legs. When Tay sawit coming he dropped on his knees and valorouslysacrificed his anatomy to the cause of the game.Daddy tried not to notice the scoring of runsby his opponents. But he had to see them and hehad to count. Ten runs were as ten blows! Afterthat each run scored was like a stab in his heart.The play went on, a terrible fusilade of wickedground balls that baffled any attempt to field them.Then, with nineteen runs scored, Natchez appearedto tire. Sam caught a foul fly, and TayTay, by obtruding his wide person to the path ofinfield hits, managed to stop them, and throw outthe runners.Score--Natchez, 21; Madden Hill, 3.Daddy's boys slouched and limped wearily in.``Wot kind of a ball's that?'' panted Tom, ashe showed his head with a bruise as large as agoose-egg.``T-t-t-t-ta-ta-tay-tay-tay-tay----'' began Mohler,in great excitement, but as he could notfinish what he wanted to say no one caughthis meaning.Daddy's watchful eye had never left thatwonderful, infernal little yarn ball. Daddy wascrushed under defeat, but his baseball brains stillcontinued to work. He saw Umpire Gale leisurelystep into the pitcher's box, and leisurely pick upthe ball and start to make a motion to put it inhis pocket.Suddenly fire flashed all over Daddy.``Hyar! Don't hide that ball!'' he yelled, inhis piercing tenor.He jumped up quickly, forgetting his crutch,and fell headlong. Lane and Sam got him uprightand handed the crutch to him. Daddy beganto hobble out to the pitcher's box.``Don't you hide that ball. See! I've got myeye on this game. That ball was in play, an' youcan't use the other.''Umpire Gale looked sheepish, and his eyes didnot meet Daddy's. Then Bo came trotting up.``What's wrong, boss?'' he asked.``Aw, nuthin'. You're tryin' to switch balls onme. That's all. You can't pull off any stunts onMadden's Hill.''``Why, boss, thet ball's all right. What youhollerin' about?''``Sure that ball's all right,'' replied Daddy.``It's a fine ball. An' we want a chanst to hit it!See?''Bo flared up and tried to bluster, but Daddy cuthim short.``Give us our innin'--let us git a whack at thatball, or I'll run you off Madden's Hill.''Bo suddenly looked a little pale and sick.``Course youse can git a whack at it,'' he said,in a weak attempt to be natural and dignified.Daddy tossed the ball to Harris, and as hehobbled off the field he heard Bo calling out lowand cautiously to his players. Then Daddy wascertain he had discovered a trick. He called hisplayers around him.``This game ain't over yet. It ain't any more'nbegun. I'll tell you what. Last innin' Bo'sumpire switched balls on us. That ball was lively.An' they tried to switch back on me. But nix!We're goin' to git a chanst to hit that lively ball,An' they're goin' to git a dose of their ownmedicine. Now, you dead ones--come back to life!Show me some hittin' an' runnin'.''``Daddy, you mean they run in a trick on us?''demanded Lane, with flashing eyes.``Funny about Natchez's strong finishes!''replied Daddy, coolly, as he eyed his angry players.They let out a roar, and then ran for the bats.The crowd, quick to sense what was in the air,thronged to the diamond and manifested alarmingsigns of outbreak.Sam Wickhart leaped to the plate and bandishedhis club.``Sam, let him pitch a couple,'' called Daddyfrom the bench. ``Mebbe we'll git wise then.''Harris had pitched only twice when the factbecame plain that he could not throw this ballwith the same speed as the other. The ball washeavier; besides Harris was also growing tired.The next pitch Sam hit far out over the centerfielder's head for a home run. It was a longerhit than any Madden's Hill boy had ever made.The crowd shrieked its delight. Sam crossed theplate and then fell on the bench beside Daddy.``Say! that ball nearly knocked the bat out ofmy hands,'' panted Sam. ``It made the batspring!''``Fellers, don't wait,'' ordered Daddy. ``Don'tgive the umpire a chanst to roast us now. Slamthe first ball!''The aggressive captain lined the ball at BoStranathan. The Natchez shortstop had a fineopportunity to make the catch, but he made aninglorious muff. Tay Tay hurried to bat. UmpireGale called the first pitch a strike. Tayslammed down his club. ``T-t-t-t-to-to-twasn'tover,'' he cried. ``T-t-t-tay----''``Shut up,'' yelled Daddy. ``We want to gitthis game over today.''Tay Tay was fat and he was also strong, so thatwhen beef and muscle both went hard against theball it traveled. It looked as if it were going amile straight up. All the infielders ran to getunder it. They got into a tangle, into which theball descended. No one caught it, and thereuponthe Natchez players began to rail at one another.Bo stormed at them, and they talked back to him.Then when Tom Lindsay hit a little slow grounderinto the infield it seemed that a just retributionhad overtaken the great Natchez team.Ordinarily this grounder of Tom's would havebeen easy for a novice to field. But this peculiargrounder, after it has hit the ground once, seemedto wake up and feel lively. It lost its leisurelyaction and began to have celerity. When it reachedDundon it had the strange, jerky speed socharacteristic of the grounders that had confused theMadden's Hill team. Dundon got his hands onthe ball and it would not stay in them. Whenfinally he trapped it Tom had crossed first baseand another runner had scored. Eddie Curtiscracked another at Bo. The Natchez captaindove for it, made a good stop, bounced after therolling ball, and then threw to Kelly at first. Theball knocked Kelly's hands apart as if they hadbeen paper. Jake Thomas batted left handed andhe swung hard on a slow pitch and sent the ballfar into right field. Runners scored. Jake's hitwas a three-bagger. Then Frank Price hit up aninfield fly. Bo yelled for Dundon to take it andDundon yelled for Harris. They were all afraidto try for it. It dropped safely while Jake ranhome.With the heavy batters up the excitementincreased. A continuous scream and incessantrattle of tin cans made it impossible to hear whatthe umpire called out. But that was not important,for he seldom had a chance to call either ballor strike. Harris had lost his speed and nearlyevery ball he pitched was hit by the Madden'sHill boys. Irvine cracked one down between shortand third. Bo and Pickens ran for it and collidedwhile the ball jauntily skipped out to left fieldand, deftly evading Bell, went on and on. Bobreached third. Grace hit another at Dundon, whoappeared actually to stop it four times before hecould pick it up, and then he was too late. Thedoughty bow-legged Sam, with his huge black eye,hung over the plate and howled at Muckle. Inthe din no one heard what he said, but evidentlyMuck divined it. For he roused to the spirit ofa pitcher who would die of shame if he could notfool a one-eyed batter. But Sam swooped downand upon the first ball and drove it back towardthe pitcher. Muck could not get out of the wayand the ball made his leg buckle under him. Thenthat hit glanced off to begin a marvelous exhibitionof high and erratic bounding about the infield.Daddy hunched over his soap-box bench andhugged himself. He was farsighted and he sawvictory. Again he watched the queer antics of thatlittle yarn ball, but now with different feelings.Every hit seemed to lift him to the skies. He keptsilent, though every time the ball fooled a Natchezplayer Daddy wanted to yell. And when it startedfor Bo and, as if in revenge, bounded wickeder atevery bounce to skip off the grass and make Bolook ridiculous, then Daddy experienced thehappiest moments of his baseball career. Every timea tally crossed the plate he would chalk it downon his soap box.But when Madden's Hill scored the nineteenthrun without a player being put out, then Daddylost count. He gave himself up to revel. He satmotionless and silent; nevertheless his wholeinternal being was in the state of wild tumult. Itwas as if he was being rewarded in joy for allthe misery he had suffered because he was a cripple.He could never play baseball. but he hadbaseball brains. He had been too wise for thetricky Stranathan. He was the coach and managerand general of the great Madden's Hill nine.If ever he had to lie awake at night again he wouldnot mourn over his lameness; he would have somethingto think about. To him would be given theglory of beating the invincible Natchez team. SoDaddy felt the last bitterness leave him. And hewatched that strange little yarn ball, with itswonderful skips and darts and curves. The longerthe game progressed and the wearier Harrisgrew, the harder the Madden's Hill boys battedthe ball and the crazier it bounced at Bo and hissick players. Finally, Tay Tay Mohler hit a teasinggrounder down to Bo.Then it was as if the ball, realizing a climax,made ready for a final spurt. When Bo reachedfor the ball it was somewhere else. Dundon couldnot locate it. And Kelly, rushing down to thechase, fell all over himself and his teammatestrying to grasp the illusive ball, and all the time TayTay was running. He never stopped. But as hewas heavy and fat he did not make fast time onthe bases. Frantically the outfielders ran in tohead off the bouncing ball, and when they hadsucceeded Tay Tay had performed the remarkablefeat of making a home run on a ball batted intothe infield.That broke Natchez's spirit. They quit. Theyhurried for their bats. Only Bo remained behinda moment to try to get his yarn ball. But Samhad pounced upon it and given it safely to Daddy.Bo made one sullen demand for it.``Funny about them fast finishes of yours!'' saidDaddy scornfully. ``Say! the ball's our'n. Thewinnin' team gits the ball. Go home an' look upthe rules of the game!''Bo slouched off the field to a shrill hooting andtin canning.``Fellers, what was the score?'' asked Daddy.Nobody knew the exact number of runs madeby Madden's Hill.``Gimme a knife, somebody,'' said the manager.When it had been produced Daddy laid downthe yarn ball and cut into it. The blade enteredreadily for a inch and then stopped. Daddy cutall around the ball, and removed the cover oftightly wrapped yarn. Inside was a solid ball ofIndia rubber.``Say! it ain't so funny now--how that ballbounced,'' remarked Daddy.``Wot you think of that!'' exclaimed Tom, feelingthe lump on his head.``T-t-t-t-t-t-t-ta-tr----'' began Tay Tay Mohler.``Say it! Say it!'' interrupted Daddy.``Ta-ta-ta-tr-trimmed them wa-wa-wa-wa-withtheir own b-b-b-b-b-ba-ba-ball,'' finished Tay.

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