The rival bicyclists

While the Rushers were out on the common, an old professor from the Greenpoint college came along.

His name was Stizik, and he was a very gruff, unsociable man.

He stood and watched Charley Osborne pitch for a few minutes.

Then he heard Billy mention the out and the in curves, and smiled sarcastically to himself.

“No such things as out and in and up curves,” he sniffed. “Utter impossibility—contrary to all the laws of gravitation.”

“Charley curves the ball—or rather the ball follows a curving line,” said Joe stoutly. “I can see it.”

“Only an optical delusion,” snorted Stizik. “Couldn’t possibly curve in any direction but downward.”

Joe knew that many people contended the same thing—to this day some will not believe that a so-called “curved” ball can be pitched—but he stuck to what he thought true.

An argument arose, and then the professor himself made a novel proposition.

“We will make a number of square frames and cover them with tissue paper. Then he can pitch one of the so styled curved balls through the line of frames. The holes through the tissue paper—we will make the paper damp—will tell if the ball curved or not.”

At once the boys took up the idea. Some long laths were procured, and soon the frames were ready.

One was set up over the home plate and four others at equal distances between that point and the pitcher’s box.

“Now, if you can pitch the ball in a curved line, I’ll make the club a present of new caps,” said Professor Stizik.

He felt certain Charley could pitch nothing but a straight ball.

“All right! Here goes!” cried Charley.

His arm went back, and through the wet paper went the baseball at a fair degree of rapidity.

“Now you’ll see how much you are mistaken!” cried Professor Stizik, as the frames were brought together.

But in less than half a minute his face wore a glum look.

Between the first and the last frames the wet paper showed that the ball had curved outwardly nearly ten inches.

“I said he could do it!” cried Joe. “I have been behind the bat too long to be mistaken.”

“You boys didn’t hold the frames straight,” growled Professor Stizik, and off he walked as fast as he could.

He never bought the boys the caps he had promised, but neither did he ever attempt to dispute with them again.

The match with the Stars was to be held on a big lot on the outskirts of Lockport. Here a grand stand capable of holding three hundred people was erected. Admission to the stand was ten cents—the money to go, one-quarter to the losing team and three-quarters to the club that won.

The Rushers were on the field bright and early. They wore neat suits they had just purchased, and made such a fine appearance that they elicited a round of applause.

When the Stars appeared they brought with them over half a hundred boys from Independence, many of them tough-looking customers.

An umpire named Valley had already been decided upon.

The Stars won the toss, and sent the Rushers to the bat first.

“Now, nothing like making a good beginning,” said Joe, as Charley took up the stick.

But Charley was destined to fan the air. He could not connect with the really swift balls the Stars’ pitcher sent in, and he went out on strikes.

A cheer went up from the rooters from Independence.

“That’s the way to serve ’em, Jake!” they yelled to their pitcher.

“Don’t give ’em a single hit!”

Billy was next at the bat. He missed two balls and then went out on a fly to second base.

The third boy at the bat was Sam Anderson. He knocked a foul into the catcher’s hands, and the first half of the innings was over.

How the Independence boys did yell! They thought they had a sure victory from the start.

“Don’t give ’em any leeway, Charley,” whispered Joe to Osborne, as they walked from the bench. “We must shut them out also.”

“All right.”

The first player up was put out easily. Charley pitched one wild ball, but our hero made a leap into the air and secured it quickly. The Rushers’ friends applauded this.

The second player of the Stars knocked a weak one between first and second bases. The ball was fumbled and he got his base on a close decision.

“Hurrah for the Stars!”

“Now bring it in, Terry!”

The next man up knocked a safe hit to right field. He got first and the other runner managed to get around to third.

The next player went out on strikes.

Then came a safe hit to center. The batter got down and the man on third came home.

The Independence boys were wild with joy. They had scored the first run.

Joe walked down to Charley.

“Keep cool, old man,” he said, “the game is still young.”

This advice had its effect. Charley pitched superbly, and the Stars went down with only one run to their credit.

The second inning was short. On both sides the players went out in one, two, three order. Billy made a big hit to center, but the fly was caught and went for nothing.

In the third inning the Rushers tied the score.

Then the Lockport boys took their turn at yelling.

One to one remained on the score board until the seventh inning, when Joe called the boys together.

“We must do something this time, fellows,” he said. “O’Donnell, start her up lively.”

And O’Donnell did, making a safe two-bagger.

Several more safe hits followed. Then another Rusher sent out a red-hot liner that brought him three bases.

End of the seventh inning: Stars, one; Rushers, five.

The boys from Independence began to look as blue as indigo. The Lockport lads could hardly contain themselves.

“Now keep ’em down,” said Charley.

“Yes, you keep ’em down,” put in Carl.

In the eighth inning the Stars began to grow desperate. They did their best and brought in two runs, making the score: Stars, three; Rushers, five.

In the ninth inning Joe was the first man at the bat. Two strikes were called on him, and then he knocked a safe one over in left field. He tore down to first, over to second, up to third—and hesitated.

“Run, run, you are all right!”

It was Charley who called to him, and once more he started. But something was under his shoe, and he slipped and fell headlong.

As quick as a wink the third baseman stooped, and picking up something, put it in his pocket.

It was now useless to try to reach the home plate, and our hero went back to the base.

“You tripped me with something,” he said to the baseman sharply.

“Wot yer givin’ me?” growled the fellow.

Joe said no more, but he set to thinking. This was evidently the trick the Stars intended to play.

The other players now came up, but were put out on strikes and a foul.

The Rushers had had their innings, and their total number of runs was still five.

To beat them the Stars must make three runs in their last half of the ninth.

The Stars’ heavy batters were up.

Charley Osborne grew just a bit nervous, and, as a consequence, before they knew it two men were on bases.

Then a batter knocked a safe two-base hit, and one of the runners came home.

This made the score: Stars, four; Rushers, five

“Go it, Stars!”

“Shut ’em out, Rushers!”

The next boy went out on strikes, and the player to follow did the same.

“Now, one more out and the game is ours,” thought Joe.

But the next batter, by accident, struck a little one to second and reached first on a wild throw, while the other runner went to third.

Two out, two men on bases, and two runs to win the game; that was the way the Stars sized it up.

Then the Stars’ heaviest batter came up to the plate, and a cheer arose, for he was a great favorite.

“Knock a homer, Pete!”

“You can do it, old fellow.”

Charley Osborne was pale and his teeth were set.

He felt that to a great extent the game depended on him.

He sent in one of his outer curves.

The Stars’ crack batter hit out and missed it.

“Good for you, Charley!”

Again Charley took his position. A pause, a look at the men on bases, and once more the ball came rushing over the plate.

Crack! The batter had hit out hard. But instead of driving into the diamond, the ball went sailing up into the air over Joe’s head.

“Run for it!”

“You must get it!”

“He can’t reach it!”

Back and still further back went Joe with the speed of the wind.

The foul tip was just over the backstop board.

With a mighty spring the boy leaped up on the fence and reached out his hand.

To the Rushers it seemed as if the fate of the club hung in Joe’s hands.

Should he muff that foul, the chances were that the heavy hitter of the Stars would line out at least a two-bagger and bring in the runs to win the game.

The ball was now nearing the ground, our hero strained over still further, until it looked as if he must lose his balance and topple over on the other side of the fence.

“You’ll break your neck!”

“The ball is out of his reach.”

A pause.

“He has it!”

“Bannon is out!”

“The Rushers have won!”

It was true.

The ball just touched the tips of our hero’s fingers, but he clung to it like grim death, and thus brought the game to a conclusion.

Score—Rushers, five; Stars, four.

Maybe the Lockport lads did not yell themselves hoarse.

The Independence boys had nothing to say. They rushed for their dressing place and sneaked off as quickly as they could.

All of the Lockport boys praised Joe. They said he had saved the game beyond a doubt.

And all agreed that his was the greatest catch ever witnessed on the grounds.