Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

1060 catch with his back turned directly toward the home plate. Well on the way to second, with the roaring of the crowd in his cars, Buckley stopped and swore. “Them guys is loaded down with horse- shoes!” he said as he repassed the coacher. With two gone, the spectators howled for the locals to get Luchow, next in order. The little German was particularly clever at advancing runners, but now, with sacks untenanted, it was his duty to get safely down the first stretch if he could. Whip- ple, pitching cautiously, presently found the count was “‘strike one and ball three,” the batter having fouled the only one to come over. Then the youngster remembered Pennington’s statement that Luchow always “took one” when it stood that way, hoping to get a walk. Straight over the heart of the pan hummed the ball, and the second strike was called. ‘““That puts you even with him, Whip,” laughed Bennett, the catcher. ‘‘Don’t lose him! Make him hit!” “Put it across,” said Luchow, bust the stitches!” But he bit vainly at a dizzy drop and the Comets received an ovation as they came cantering in from the field. “‘ Now it’s runs we want,” said Penning- ton, as the youngsters gathered at the bench, ‘‘and want them quick. They’ll be likely to come easier now than later, if those fellows get the idea that you can play and tighten up. Start us off, Collier, if you can.” Dugan had sent in Tom Harris, his weak- est pitcher, thinking him fully capable of holding the bushers down. The Sahegan manager told his players just what to expect from Harris, who had an arm that would not let him make frequent use of his once mar- velously eifective drop. Collier, the cen- ter-fielder, did not waste time tipping his cap to the cheering mob, but squared him- self in the batter’s box and lcaned against the first ball Harris warped across, driving it through an opening for a pretty single that redoubled the uproar. Temple hastened to the plate with in- structions to bunt, but Harris, hoping the over-confident runner would try to steal, “pitched out’? twice. Then twice the ball was whipped to first to make Collier hug the bag. Pennington, fathoming the design and catching Temple’s eye for a flashing instant, unobtrusively signed for the bunt on the next one. “and I'll Adventure No mistake was made. Harris put a siz- zler over; Temple dumped it toward third. Only by the sharpest kind of work did “Laughing Ham” Hunter scoop up that slow roller and get the batter in his last stride by a perfect throw to first. (SG YON; THERE is a saying that “more gamesareloston the third-base coach- ing line than anywhereelse,”’ and Pen- nington hastened to take Coppinger’s place there. Some of the Indians were joshing Harris, and the pitcher did not seem greatly pleased over the success of Temple’s sacri- fice. Giving his attention to Copley, who came next, he burned the ball across, a smoking white streak through the air. Twice Copley fouled; then he banged a grasser past Miner Samson, the first-sack guardian, who made an ineffective lunge at it. Collier could run. He came over from second with the speed of a deer that is being peppered at by a sportsman with the buck fever. With a flourish of his arms, Penning- ton sent his man home. Collier, crossing third, swung toward the plate without the slightest hesitation or let-up. Flaherty winged the ball to Creel], waiting at the registry station. It seemed to the upstanding, breathless crowd that the runner must be nipped. The ball, however, took a curve and came in wide, forcing Creel to reach for it in the wrong direction, and Collier, sliding spikes first, flung his body away from the catcher. Gripping the horsehide, Creel swung and lunged, but the umpire, squatting near by, spread out his hands, palms downward. On the throw in Copley cantered to second. The spectators were simply a mob of pop- eyed, purple-faced, howling lunatics, and it seemed a marvel that some of them did not drop dead in the effort to split their throats. This was what they had come out to scc; this was what they had told themselves they would sec; yet all along, hidden in their hearts, there had been a fear that they would not sce it. “The Indians were more amused than alarmed. Harris, although a triile sore, felt no twinge of fear and he twisted his mug at Samson, who had flung him a jeer. On the bench Dugan shifted his quid, spat and said, “‘Hear the fools!) They think one run wins this game!” Badger, next hitter, knew what he wanted to do and Harris found the man would not CO MICLOOKS C©