Long Stretch At First Base (2 page)

“All right, Cappie, boy!” Kirby shouted from first base. “Settle down! Bear down and get ’em out!”

Cappie stretched and delivered.

“Ball one!”

The chatter in the infield grew louder and louder. “C’mon, Cappie! Give ’im that sinker!”

“Ball two!”

Again Cappie backed off the mound, picked up some dirt, and dropped it.

“Strike!” A beautiful pitch over the heart of the plate.

“Thataway, Cappie!”

Then, “Strike two!”

Bobby’s heart pounded. That batter was a big kid. If he connected solidly with one of Cappie’s fast pitches he’d knock it
over the centerfield fence and clean the bases.

Cappie stepped on the mound. He toed the rubber, stretched, threw.

Crack!
A line drive to short! Bobby raised his glove.
Smack!
The ball stung the palm of his hand, but he held it.

Three outs!

“Nice catch, Bobby!” Coach Barrows said, smiling broadly. “That would have gone for two or three bases for sure!”

Bobby grinned as he sat down. “I hardly knew I had it!” he said.

Kirby patted him gently on the knee. “Beautiful catch, Bobby. I wish I could hit as good as you can catch.”

“You will,” said Bobby. “Just get up there and swing.”

Kirby put on the protective helmet. He
waited till the Clippers pitcher threw his three practice throws to the catcher and for the umpire to yell “Play ball!” Then
he walked to the plate.

Kirby swung hard at the first pitch. Strike one. He swung hard again — so hard he fell to the ground. Strike two.

“He tries to kill it,” said Coach Barrows. “I’ve told him a hundred times not to swing too hard.”

Bobby looked at Kirby and wished for a hit. A heaviness came over his heart. He just couldn’t understand it — Kirby being
so big and not being able to hit. At least, he was a good first baseman.
Nobody
could beat him at that position.

“Strike three!” yelled the umpire.

Kirby turned away from the plate, his eyes toward the ground. His bottom lip
was curled up. He tossed the bat aside, walked to the end of the dugout and sat down.

“You’re still swinging too hard,” said Curt Barrows. “Swing easy. Just meet the ball.”

Kirby acted as though he didn’t hear.

Bobby was up next. He belted a line drive over third for two bases. Then Al stepped to the plate. He knocked a hot grounder
to short. Bobby started for third — and got caught in a hot box! The Clippers shortstop and third baseman threw the ball back
and forth between them as Bobby tried hard to keep from being tagged. Suddenly he slipped. The third baseman touched him with
the ball.

Two away.

Toby Warren drove a single over short, sending Al to second. Then Jim Hurwitz
hit a two-two pitch for a triple between left and center fields. Two runs crossed the plate. Dave Gessini grounded out to
end the inning.

Score: Redbirds — 3, Yankee Clippers — 1.

In the top of the fourth the Clippers scored twice, tying the score. The Redbirds got two men on base at their turn at bat,
Cappie and Dick Carachi. Dick was replacing Jerry in right field. The batter was Kirby.

I hope he hits, Bobby said to himself. He can break the score, and perhaps win the game. He’ll feel awful good if he does.

Kirby hit the ball all right — but directly into the pitcher’s hands. Bobby flied out to left, ending the inning.

The Clippers came to bat, sparkling with the hope to pile up a lot of runs.
They pushed one across to break the tie and go into the lead, 4–3.

The Redbirds failed to get a man on base.

In the sixth and final inning the Clippers were held scoreless. The Redbirds, trailing by one run, came to bat with their
last chance looking slimmer than a lizard’s tail. Don Robinson, batting for Dave, knocked out a single, followed by a single
by Mark Donahue. Cappie flied out. Dick blasted a line drive directly at the shortstop. The shortstop caught the ball, doubled
up Don, who didn’t tag up in time, and the game was over.

“Well,” said Dave, as he rode home with Bobby and Kirby in Mr. Jamison’s car, “guess we stay in third place.”

“Or maybe we dropped to fourth,” said
Kirby. He shook his head sadly. “Boy, that ball looks so easy to hit.”

“You swing too hard,” his father said. “You’re trying to hit home runs.”

“That’s what Mr. Barrows told me,” Kirby said. “Guess I just don’t know how.”

Bobby looked at him, then looked away. Kirby loved baseball a lot more than he ever would. Why hadn’t Kirby gotten those hits
instead of him? It wouldn’t have bothered
him
if he hadn’t gotten any. Guess that was something he would never figure out.

That night at the supper table Mrs. Jamison acted all put out about the beans and the lettuce in their garden.

“Something’s been eating them,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, but I think
we should do something or all our work will go for nothing.”

“We’ll camp up there under the trees tonight, Mom,” suggested Kirby. “Maybe we can find out what it is.”

“Oh, boy!” cried Bobby. “That’ll be fun! Maybe it’s a skunk or something.”

“More likely a woodchuck,” said Mr. Jamison.

Just before dark Bobby and Kirby put up their tent under the trees that grew along one edge of their large vegetable garden.
Ann helped them to hold up the center poles while they drove in the stakes. Then Kirby and Bobby dug a shallow ditch around
the tent in case of rain.

That night they slept in their sleeping bags. They listened to the
crick! crick! crick!
of crickets, and talked about baseball
until Bobby got sleepy and didn’t want to talk any more.

Suddenly he awoke. Somebody was pushing his shoulder. He rose on his elbow, blinked open his eyes.

“Bobby! Come here, quick! Look what’s out there!”

Kirby’s excited voice took all the sleepiness out of Bobby. He crawled to the opening of the tent. Kirby held the flap open
while they both looked out.

Against the moonlit darkness a shadow was moving in the garden. A big shadow — even bigger than a man.

B
OBBY trembled. He was scared. He took hold of Kirby’s pajamas and clung to them tightly.

“What — what is it, Kirby?” he whispered tensely.

“I don’t know!” Kirby whispered back. “But it doesn’t look like a man, unless he’s a giant!”

“It can’t be a giant, could it, Kirby?”

“Nah. There aren’t any giants. Except in circuses.”

Bobby was glad that Kirby was beside him. Kirby didn’t seem scared at all. He would know what to do.

Kirby pulled the flap open wider and began to crawl out.

“Where are you going?” asked Bobby breathlessly.

“I’m going to get closer to that thing — whatever it is,” replied Kirby. “It can’t see us. It’s dark. Just don’t make a noise.”

“You
sure
you want to go out there?” said Bobby worriedly.

“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To find out what’s eating Mom’s beans?”

“Think it’s an animal?”

“What else could it be?” said Kirby. “Okay. Quit talking now. If you’re too scared to come with me, stay inside the tent.”

Bobby wet his lips. “I’ll come,” he said.

They crawled out of the tent on their hands and knees. Bobby stayed as close as possible to Kirby and tried not to make any
noise.

The big, dark object was about fifty
feet away. Bobby could hear a soft, snipping sound coming from it, but he couldn’t make out what it was. As they got closer
the strange noise grew louder. It sounded like the tearing of leaves, followed by a steady
crunch, crunch!

Gradually the big shadow took shape against the velvet sky. Bobby could make out the body of something shaped like a horse.
Only it wasn’t a horse, because the legs were too thin.

And then the animal raised its head and Bobby and Kirby stood stock-still and held their breaths in deep silence. On the head
of the animal were antlers. They weren’t big, but there must have been six or eight points altogether. For a moment Bobby
forgot being scared, and thought that this true-life picture was the most beautiful he had ever seen.

“It’s a deer!” cried Kirby softly.

The deer whirled its head toward the boys. The moonlight flashed against its big, saucer-wide eyes. Then it spun and bounded
across the field, its short, white-tipped tail bobbing like a flag behind it.

The boys stood up. They watched it run. But the deer was soon out of sight behind the cherry trees and young oak saplings
that grew beyond the edge of the garden.

“Well! So he’s the critter who’s been eating our beans!” exclaimed Kirby. “Bet he won’t come back here again!”

Bobby heaved a sigh and smiled. “Boy! Wasn’t he beautiful?”

“Sure was,” said Kirby. “I never dreamed it was a deer.”

“Me, either,” said Bobby. “Well, let’s
get back to our tent. But I don’t think I’ll sleep any more tonight.”

They went back to the tent. Under the warm cover of the sleeping bag, Bobby said, “You weren’t scared at all, were you, Kirby?”

Kirby chuckled. “Not exactly scared. I just didn’t know what that thing was. I figured it must have been an animal, though.
That’s all it could have been.”

Bobby smiled in the darkness. He was sure glad that he had Kirby for a brother. Kirby wasn’t afraid of anything. But it was
funny that he couldn’t hit a baseball.

Later that night Bobby awakened again with a start. There was a steady patter against the tent. And the quiet night had turned
into one filled with noises. The
heavens snapped and boomed like giant firecrackers. Lightning lit up the night for a brief instant, and then thunder rolled
across the sky.

Bobby shook with fright. He snuggled tighter under the covers.

“Bobby, are you awake?” Kirby’s voice came softly through the gloom.

It was pitch dark inside the tent, now. The heavy rain clouds had covered the moon and put a black curtain over the night.

“Yes.” Bobby felt better at once.

“You want to come in here with me?”

Bobby raised his head. “Is there room in there for both of us?”

“Sure, there is.”

Bobby thought a moment. Then he laid his head back down. “No, never mind. I can sleep better separate.”

“Okay,” said Kirby.

Bobby listened to the whip-like cracks of thunder, and imagined covered wagons rolling their way across a rugged, rocky trail
like those he had read about in books and seen on television. He saw the flashes of lightning, and remembered a spotlight
at an airport that he had once seen lighting up the night just like that. He listened to the rain. After a while his eyes
grew heavy again. Pretty soon he didn’t hear the noises any more.

The next time Bobby opened his eyes he saw daylight through the canvas tent. He saw the slanting sides of the tent ripple
like waves on a pool of water, and heard the rustle of leaves which meant that the wind was blowing. Birds chirped as though
they were happy the rainy night was over.

He looked at Kirby. Kirby was still asleep. Bobby smiled. He rolled over on his back and went on listening to the noises.

After a while Kirby awoke. “Hi!” he said. “Oh, boy! It stopped raining! Come on! Let’s get dressed and tell Mom and Dad what
we saw last night.”

They dressed quickly and ran down to the house. Terry hopped out of his doghouse, his short tail wagging fiercely. He strained
at the end of the rope that held him and barked at the boys.

“Morning, Terry!” Bobby and Kirby greeted him. They both held him a few moments, then ran into the house.

“We saw what it was that was eating our beans and lettuce, Mom!” Kirby cried excitedly. “You’d never guess!”

“A woodchuck,” Mrs. Jamison guessed. Her cheeks dimpled with a smile.

“Nope,” said Bobby. “It was a deer.”

“A deer?” Mrs. Jamison’s brows lifted in surprise. “I would never have guessed!”

The boys told her all about their experience with the deer, and then about the heavy rain.

“I heard the rain, too,” said Mrs. Jamison softly. “I was worried about you.”

Bobby grinned proudly. “You don’t have to worry about us, Mom,” he said.

Ann came into the kitchen while they were eating their cereal. They told her all about their experience, too.

She said, “I’m glad I wasn’t out there. Not in
that
rain!”

Bobby laughed. “We were inside the tent. And we had a ditch around it so that
the water couldn’t come in. It was impossible to get wet.”

After breakfast, Kirby went to his room and closed the door. Soon the notes of a saxophone boomed softly, and Bobby knew where
Kirby would be for the next half-hour.

B
OBBY got a pint jar with a metal cover from the basement, and went outside. He climbed up the hill near the tent and walked
slowly through the rows of corn. Grasshoppers flitted through the air around him. Presently he found exactly what he was looking
for — a praying mantis.

He plucked it up carefully, put it into the jar, and screwed on the lid. Then he carried it home proudly. He lifted the lid
off the large glass terrarium he kept by the basement door and tipped the praying mantis gently in.