Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

The Cast-Off Over behind the stand he had rushed at Coppinger, saying, “‘Give me that ball! I’m going to warm up myself. I’m going.to pitch the rest of this game if I never pitch another! Go back and watch, Cop. Let me know when the inning ends, so I can start the sixth.” Coppinger, who had felt no relish for the mauling he fully expected to receive, wvill- ingly obeyed. Pennington was not given much time to get his arm into condition, Kotman con- tinuing as invulnerable as ever. The crowd knew another pitcher would be put in and there was a craning of necks when the locals trotted out once more. Pennington, walking to the slab, was received with sur- prise and uncertain applause. ‘““What’s this! what’s this!” whooped Hunter, standing with his hands on his hips and staring. “Can it be? Oh, say, now there will be sport!” Dugan took a fresh chew of tobacco and settled himself on the bench, grinning. “You know what you c’n do with him,” he said. “His heart-valves are weak as rotten leather hinges.” Pennington had spoken a moment with Bennett. He started off with his under- hand rise and Luchow, biting at the same ball twice, cut two gashes in the air. Then he fouled a wide “‘roundhouse,” but this encouragement proved deceptive when, a moment later, he slashed inches beneath another rise ball and was out! Seemingly utterly deaf to applause and paying strict attention to business, Penning- ton took Norris in hand. He knew the man’s weakness for grandstanding and when, having missed once, the batter did a deris- ive jig-step in the box, Pen caught him off guard and whipped a straight one over for a called strike. Then came the lately acquired ‘“‘fade-away”’ and Norris, his pea- cock feathers drooping, followed Luchow to the bench. Maddern meant businessand he fouled the ball four times. Still the grim young man on the slab continued to bend them over, Maddern eventually perished in the same manner as the two comrades who had pre- ceded him. The crowd hailed Pennington as Sher- idan was greeted on his arrival at Win- chester. Here was the man to save the day! They gave full token of their faith in him. 1063 On the other hand, Dugan muttered, “‘He’ll blow up; he can’t help it.” Pennington wanted more runs, but Kot- man still “had the goods,’ and delivered them. The seventh opened with Samson making a ludicrously weak showing against the slants and headwork of the Sahagan slab- man, being likewise retired by the strike- out route. But Hunter hit a grounder to Grozman, who booted it and instantly there was a commotion. Dugan himself was on the coaching-line now. ““Ah-yah! ah-yee!” howled the manager of the Indians. ‘‘Here he goes! He’s soft! He’s easy! He’s a quitter! Make him pitch! We’ll make a hundred now! Yow! Look out!” The final cry was a warning to Hunter, who leaped back to the sack; but Penning- ton’s throw was so slow and faltering that the runner’s taunting laugh seemed almost justified. Again the pitcher threw to the sack, evidently trying to be quicker, but it seemed apparent that he could not catch a real player by that sort of a trick. Made bold, Hunter took a bigger lead. Suddenly, as he seemed on the verge of pitching, Pennington pivoted like a flash and shot the ball straight and Iow into the hands of the waiting Eagan, who put it against Hunter, sliding. “You're out!”’ barked the umpire. Tricked, Hunter rose from the dust, pro- testing. Dugan ran at the umpire fercely, but was ordered back, the wildly shrieking crowd demanding that he should be put out. Abusive, the chagrined and exasperated manager of the Indians delayed the game until the umpire pulled his watch. Then Hunter, all the tounge: merriment taken out of him, retired. Creel fanned. Although in no manner did he give ex- pression to it, Pennington really had little hope of making further runs. He felt that the sole chance of winning lay in holding the enemy where they were. Still he kept his players keyed up and trying their hardest with the club. Kotman, however, pitched like a man straining every nerve to win a Big League pennant and one after another the bushers, Pen included, bit the dust. The eighth throughout was a wrangle, the Indians resorting to umpire-baiting and all sorts of bullying tactics, even though CO MICLOOKS ©