The suddenness of it was just his salvation. He had no chance to get nervous.
“Can he do it?” asked Ned, as he started for his place.
“He’s got a fine, natural curve,” replied Bart. “I never noticed it until the other day. Discovered it by accident. I think he’ll make good.”
And Stumpy did. He hardly knew how he did it, but he had a knack of throwing the ball that fooled the best batters on the other team. He struck out the first two men, and there arose murmurs of anxiety among the rivals.
“Why didn’t they put him in first?” asked the captain of the home team of some of his men, wondering why so good a pitcher had been left to the last.
The third batter managed to plant the leather in a long flight in the direction of third base. But Frank was right on the alert. He made a splendid jump and caught it, putting the side out minus a run. There was a wild burst of cheering from the high school girls and boys.
“Only takes one run to beat ’em!” exclaimed Bart as his team went to the bat for the last time. “Somebody get it!”
Somebody did. It was Ned, who came first to the plate. He lined a beauty just over the center fielder’s head, and got two bases on it. Joe Wright brought him in, and such a yell as went up from the high school crowd was seldom heard on that diamond.
“That does it!” yelled Bart, capering about. “Stumpy! you’re all to the good!”
“But Ned won the game,” objected Fenn.
“Your pitching held them down just when they would have walked away from us. You’re all to the good, Stumpy!”
“Three cheers for Stumpy!” called some one, and they came with a vim that made Fenn blush.
CHAPTER VII
ALICE HAS A CHANCE
The four chums were certainly regarded as the heroes of the school that day, for they had been instrumental in winning a victory that went down in the history of the institution as a most brilliant one.
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Stumpy,” said Ned, as the nine reached the high school grounds on the return trip.
“Me either,” replied Fenn. “It sort of ‘growed,’ like Topsy in Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
“To think of beating the Preps,” murmured Bart. “It’s the finest thing that ever happened.”
“How’s your wrist, Lem?” asked Frank.
“Hurts like the mischief. Sandy came down on it with all his force.”
“Say, I wonder if he meant that?” asked Fenn.
“Meant it? What do you mean?” asked Bart.
“Well it looked queer,” went on Fenn. “There we were in a tie game and we needed every advantage we could get to hold it. Then Sandy gets up to one of his tricks, and he might have known something would happen. It always does when he tries his funny work.”
“You don’t mean to say you think he deliberately hurt me, do you?” asked Lem, winding his handkerchief around the swollen wrist.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to accuse any one unjustly,” Stumpy continued. “But I heard he was going around saying things about being done out of his place as substitute pitcher, in practice, by me. Maybe he thought he’d just hurt Lem a little so’s he could have a chance to finish out the game.”
“I’d hate to believe it of him,” remarked the captain, “but he certainly did act rather strange. He went off angry, too. Well, it can’t be helped. Guess we’d better not say anything about it unless he tries to do something else. Come on to the drug store, Lem, and we’ll get some arnica for that wrist.”
Most of the boys dispersed at the school campus where the stage had left them, but the four chums, with Lem in their midst, walked up the street together.
“I wouldn’t be afraid to tackle ’em again,” observed Ned. “We’ve got their measure now.”
“Maybe they’ll ask for a return game,” said Bart. “Hello,” he added, “here comes my sister and Jennie Smith. Look out, Stumpy, or Jennie will be doing the Juliet act to you.”
“Guess not,” spoke Fenn, and he started to walk away, but Ned held him.
“Don’t desert in the face of the enemy,” he said, and Fenn had to stay.
“Oh, is some one hurt?” cried Alice, as she saw the cloth around Lem’s wrist. “How nice! I mean how fortunate I happened to meet you! Now I will have a chance to treat you!”
“Going to treat us to ice cream sodas?” asked her brother unfeelingly.
“Don’t be foolish, Bart! What is it Lem; is your wrist broken?”
“Only sprained, I think.”
“Let me look at it,” demanded Alice, and, regardless of the crowd that gathered, when the five boys and two girls formed a group on the sidewalk, Alice proceeded to undo the handkerchief and other cloth Lem had wound about his wrist.
“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “I must look at my book on first-aid-to-the-injured to make sure what it is,” and she took a little volume from a bag she carried on her arm. Rapidly turning the pages she read:
“‘A sprain is the result of violent twisting, stretching or partial tearing of the ligaments about a joint, and there is often a fracture at the ends of the bones.’ Are you sure there isn’t a fracture, Lem? I’d love to treat a fracture as I never had a chance at one yet.”
“I hope not,” murmured the disabled pitcher. “It’s bad enough as it is.”
He was rather uneasy under the pressure Alice brought to bear on his wrist as she turned it this way and that, in an endeavor to see if it was broken.
“Do I hurt you?” she asked.
“Well – er – that is – no!” and Lem shut his teeth tightly together.
“Come right over to the drug store,” spoke Alice, as she led Lem by the injured wrist. He tried not to show the pain she unconsciously caused him. “I will get some hot water and hold your hand in it for an hour and a half.”
“Half an hour’s enough,” Lem said. “I haven’t got time for any more.”
“I must go by the book,” Alice declared firmly. “A good nurse always does that.”
Alice walked into the drug store, leading Lem as though she had done that sort of thing all her life. The four chums followed.
“Some hot water please, in a deep basin,” requested Alice of the clerk, and, though the man behind the counter looked in wonder at the strange cavalcade, he brought out the basin full of the steaming liquid.
“Put your wrist in,” commanded Alice as she rolled up Lem’s sleeve.
He thrust his arm in, half way to the elbow.
“Ouch!” he yelled. “It’s hot!”
“Of course it is,” replied the girl coolly, “it has to be. Now while we are waiting the hour and a half let’s talk about the game. It will help you to forget the pain. Maybe Bart has money for some ice cream soda.”
“I’ll buy ’em,” said Lem, trying to get his uninjured hand into his pocket.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” decided Alice. “You’re a patient. Whoever heard of a patient standing treat?” and she motioned to her brother.
CHAPTER VIII
THE STRANGE BOATMAN
Bart went over to the soda fountain and ordered “something for all hands” as he expressed it. Meanwhile Alice remained at Lem’s side, holding his wrist down