Chapter XXVII: Gloomy Days

"Much hurt?" inquired Mr. Leighton anxiously, as he reached Tom's side.

"Oh, nothing to speak of," replied the plucky pitcher carelessly, but when he held up his hand a few drops of blood trickled from it, and there was a thin, red line across the palm.

"You shouldn't have stopped that ball!" exclaimed Dutch, half savagely.

"I shouldn't? Do you think I was going to stand there and let it go by, and lose us the game?" demanded Tom. "I guess not--not for two sore hands!"

"But, it's your pitching hand," expostulated Dutch. "We need you the rest of the season, and the championship is far from won--in fact it's almost as far off as the stars," he added in a low voice, for he, too, had noted the lack of team work in the present game, and some that had preceded.

"Oh, don't be a croaker," advised Tom, trying to speak lightly though he was in considerable pain. "I'll be all right in a week. We haven't any hard game until then, and we'll go in and clean up all the roosts around here before the season closes."

"I hope so," remarked Mr. Leighton in a low voice. "You had better let the doctor look at that hand, Parsons. No use taking any chances."

The injury was temporarily bandaged and Tom, with a queer feeling about him, that was not at all connected with his wound, changed his uniform for street clothing and returned to Randall with the nine. Dr. Marshall, later, dressed the hurt, and decided that Tom must refrain from playing ball for at least a week--perhaps longer.

"I'll have Evert warming up all this week," decided the coach. "We play the Branchville nine Saturday, and ought to win easily. Then I think you'll be ready for Fairview the following week, and Boxer Hall after that."

"The last two big games," murmured Tom. "We've got to win them both if we want the championship, and I'm afraid----"

"Oh, cheer up!" advised Phil. "I know I played rotten to-day, but I'll do better next time. Please forgive me?" and he assumed a mocking, contrite air, at which Tom could not help laughing.

"Get out!" exclaimed the captain. "You know I wasn't referring to you. But, seriously, Phil, something's got to be done. Think of it! We pulled through by the skin of our teeth to-day----"

"By the skin of your hand, you mean."

"Well, have it that way, but consider. Next Saturday will be an easy contest. Then comes Fairview and Boxer, both after our scalps. As it stands now we have played a number of games besides those with our two big enemies and are tied with Boxer for first place, and the possession of the loving cup. If we lose the Fairview game, and Boxer beats Fairview we will still have a show, by beating Boxer ourselves, but if it goes the other way we're out of it. Our only hope is to do up both Fairview and Boxer, in succession, and how we are going to do it is more than I can tell."

"Oh, we'll do it--somehow," declared Phil.

Matters, as regarded the baseball nine, did not improve much in the next few days, and Tom was filled with gloomy thoughts and dire forebodings. Though he was on hand at every practice the lads missed his sure arm in the pitching box, though Evert did fairly well. The game with Branchville proved fairly easy, though Randall did not shine with any unusual brilliancy.

"Hang it all, something's got to be done!" declared Tom on the night after the game. He was nervous and irritated, for his hand pained him, though it was nearly healed, and he was going to pitch in practice on Monday.

"What can be done?" inquired Phil, who was critically examining a new glove he had purchased.

"Sid, we might as well have it out," went on Tom, and he squared his shoulders as if for a fight, as he confronted the deposed second baseman. "Are you or are you not going to play with us again this season? You know we need you. We want you to help us to bat to win. Are you going to do it?"

"Why, it doesn't depend on me," answered Sid, in apparent surprise. "If the doctor says the word I'll jump right in, and do my best. You know that. It's up to the faculty. If they remove the ban----"

"No, it's not up to the faculty!" declared Tom vigorously. "It's up to you, and you know it. It's up to you to save the Randall 'varsity nine!"

"Up to me?" Sid had arisen from his seat near the window, and stood in the middle of the room.

"Up to you," repeated Tom. "You know, as well as I do, that you weren't guilty when Zane caught you with the liquor. You had that for some one else, and you're trying to shield him. You never use it--you had no use for it, yet you kept still when they accused you, and didn't tell. Now it's time to tell--it's time to say you were innocent--it's time to come out and end this mystery. The team needs you! All you've got to do is to tell the truth, instead of keeping silent, and you know the faculty will exonerate you. Then the ban will be removed, and you can play. That's why I say it's up to you. Isn't it now? Own up, Sid; did you have that liquor for yourself? If you told the truth about it couldn't you get back on the team?"

Tom was fairly panting from the force of his appeal. Sid's face was strangely white, as he turned to look the captain full in the eyes. For a moment he did not reply, and the breathing of the three chums could plainly be heard, for Phil was as much agitated as either of the others.

"Answer me, Sid," pleaded Tom.

"I can't answer everything you ask," spoke Sid, in a low voice. "As I told you before, I gave a promise, and, until I am released from it, I can't speak--my lips are sealed."

"But you didn't have that liquor for yourself," persisted Tom. "Did you, now?"

"I'm not going to answer that," and Sid's hands were gripped on the back of a chair, until his knuckles showed white with the strain.

"Sid Henderson, will you--dare you say that if you told the truth about this miserable business you would not be reinstated and allowed to play?" went on the captain relentlessly. "If you told the whole story, couldn't you get back on the team?"

"I'm not going to tell," said Sid slowly.

"Then you don't want to get back on the team?" fired Tom quickly.

"More than you know--more than you know," was Sid's answer, as he went out of the room.