Jimmy Kirkland and the Plot for a Pennant

"Help me, Silent; I'm all in."

Through the eddying, shouting, scrambling crowd that had swarmed cheering upon the field, Swanson half led, half carried his exhausted mate.

They had pressed close to the exit to the club dressing rooms, when suddenly a great shout smote the air. A tremor of fresh excitement ran through the crowd.

"What is it, Silent?" asked McCarthy anxiously.

"It's the Scoreboard!" yelled Swanson. "Look! The Jackrabbits scored five in the eighth inning and beat the Panthers out, 6 to 4. Boy, we're champions!"

McCarthy did an odd thing. He slid quietly to the ground in a faint, and they carried him to the dressing rooms.

CHAPTER XXXII

Rejoicing

McCarthy slept the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. He slept all the way during the homeward journey, waking refreshed and only a trifle stiff when he was called early in the morning to disembark. He and Swanson rode to the hotel in a taxicab, anxious to escape from the crowds that gathered to witness the arrival of the champions after their sensational victory.

"Don't run," urged Swanson, "I'm a hog for punishment of this kind. I could stand around all year and let these people cheer me. It sounds good after what I've heard them say. See that big fellow, yelling his head off, there? He's the same one that yelled 'rotten' at me for two months in the middle of the season."

"Let's have breakfast up in the room," urged McCarthy. "Get them to send up all the morning papers. I want to read what they say about the game."

"They say enough, judging from the headlines," replied Swanson. "Let's eat down here and bask in the admiration of these fellows who have been calling us dubs. Pose for them, Kohinoor! You're a hero! Don't you know a hero has to stand on his pedestal all day and smile? Smile, darn you!"

In spite of the giant's good-natured badinage they hurried to their rooms and ordered breakfast and newspapers.

"They've got most of the story," said McCarthy. "They have written a lot of guff about – Oh, they make a heroine out of Miss Tabor. Look at her picture. Where did they get it? I never had one."

"Get the original," said Swanson gruffly, his mouth full of toast. "See this: Easy Ed Edwards has run. He skipped before the game was over, and the paper says he has carried off a hundred thousand dollars in money that was bet with him and is fleeing to Europe."

"Williams made his getaway, too," said McCarthy, eagerly scanning the papers.

"Where did he go? I saw him slide off the bench in the eighth while we were scoring and start toward the club house. Guess he was afraid of Edwards."

"Darn the luck," growled Swanson. "Here's all that stuff about Kennedy and me being licked in the saloon. The whole story is out."

"There's one thing I want to find out," said Swanson, clenching his fist. "And that is who the big guy was that Edwards hired as his slugger. The season won't be complete until I hook this old grounder grabber of mine on his jaw."

"I've got a bit of business," announced McCarthy, after an hour of excited conversation.

"Wait till she gets through breakfast," insinuated Swanson insultingly. "Going to desert your old pal for a skirt so soon?"

"Aw, shut up," said McCarthy. "I've got to thank her, haven't I?"

Swanson was silent for an instant. A serious expression came over his homely, good-natured face.

"I hope you win her, Kohinoor," he said, simply, putting his big arm across McCarthy's shoulders. "You deserve her – I wanted her myself, once."

Without another word he went over and sat down, picking up a paper, and McCarthy, walking to him, said:

"I'm sorry, Silent, maybe" —

"No maybe about it," said Swanson without looking up, "I lost, long ago."

McCarthy descended two flights of stairs and knocked timidly at the door of the Clancy apartments. He expected to find Betty Tabor with Mrs. Clancy, but the girl was alone, the Clancys not having finished their breakfast.

"Betty," he exclaimed, taking both her outstretched hands, "Betty – I had to come – I wanted to tell you – I love you."

"Oh," she said in surprise, "I" —

His arm slipped around her waist and he drew her close.

"I have loved you from the first," he said, pleadingly. "I wanted to tell you yesterday. I thought you cared then; you do care for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Larry," she said softly, hiding her face. "I think I have – from the first."

"From the first – the very first, dearest?" he asked tenderly. "From the day we met – years ago?"

"Years ago?" she asked in surprise. "Then you are? Yes, you are; you must be the little boy who was crying in the train? I knew when you came with the club we had met somewhere, and I could not remember where."

"Did you remember the little boy?" he asked.

"Yes, Larry," she said "I never have forgotten. I used to pray for him every night; that he might be happy in his new home. I kept the picture of him that was taken at Portland and I often have thought of him."

"It must have been meant that we should meet, dearest," he whispered.

"Yes, Larry," she replied softly.

He kissed her and held her close.

"Larry!" he exclaimed. "Where did you learn my name, sweetheart?"

"The old gentleman in the box next to us at the game called you Larry – and it seemed to fit you better than Jim does." She laughed.

"He is my uncle – my father, almost. You will meet him soon, and then I will explain how I became McCarthy."

At that instant Manager Clancy and his wife entered abruptly, followed by Technicalities Feehan. Betty Tabor blushed and struggled to extricate herself from McCarthy's arms, but he held her close and announced:

"Betty has just promised to become my wife."

A shower of congratulation followed, and Mrs. Clancy became so excited she dropped her fancy work and kissed both, then kissed Feehan, and that surprised reporter dropped his precious manuscript in his embarrassment.

A few moments after McCarthy left his room to make the call that resulted in his happiness being established, Swanson was aroused from his reverie by insistent rapping upon the door, and in response to his welcoming cry, a tall, slender old man with bristling moustache, stormed into the apartment.

"Where's that young scoundrel who calls himself McCarthy?" he demanded, brandishing his cane threateningly.

"Hello, grandpaw," said Swanson. "Who dealt you a hand?"

"You're another one of those rascally ballplayers!" charged the man violently. "I know you – you've been leading my nephew into all sorts of wild scrapes, disgracing the family" —

"You Kohinoor's uncle?" howled Swanson joyously as he sprang up and seized the old gentleman with a bear hug and waltzed him around. "Welcome to our fair city, uncle. I adopt you right now. Kohinoor is my chum. How does it seem to be the uncle of a hero?"

"Release me, you scoundrel," puffed the uncle. "Release me or I'll cane you! Where is he?"

"Truth is, uncle, he's gone skirting," said Swanson, releasing his victim.

"Gone where?" asked the uncle.

"Skirting – calling on a girl – and between you and me, uncle, he's got the best chance to win her, and she's worth winning."

"What, another?" demanded the uncle. "Then he hasn't eloped with that blond niece of that crook, Baldwin?"

"Not on your life," said Swanson, "he's won the best little girl in the world."

In five minutes they were laughing and chatting like old friends, and the uncle was boasting of his nephew's prowess at baseball.

"Hang it," he stormed, "I ought to cane him, the young rascal, for treating me this way. He never let me know he was playing, and I only got to see one game. But wasn't that a – what do you call it – a corker?"

"Let's go to them," proposed Swanson.

And into the tableau of congratulations that was being presented in the Clancy apartment Swanson burst, leading the old gentleman, who was struggling to smile and to be angry at the same time.

"Look who's here," he shouted. "Kohinoor's uncle, and from the looks of things he has arrived just at the right minute to give his blessing."

"Uncle Jim," exclaimed McCarthy, stepping forward quickly.

"Larry, you young rascal! – Larry" —

His voice broke and tears rolled down his cheeks as he put his arm around the boy's neck and wept. "Larry, you young scoundrel, what did you mean by running away from your old uncle?"

"Uncle Jim," said McCarthy seriously, as he put his arm around the old man's waist, "I was a fool. I found it out and I was coming home to tell you I was wrong and beg you to forgive me, but I could not leave the team when it needed me. I was only a foolish boy. If you can forgive" —

"It's all right now, Larry, boy," said the old man, wiping his eyes and laughing happily. "I was certain you'd come to your senses and find you didn't love that girl."

"I am certain you will not object to the young lady I am going to marry, Uncle Jim" —

"Marry!" cried Mr. Lawrence angrily. "Nonsense! You're not going to marry anyone! Here we just make up and you want to start the quarrel all over again. Marry? You young scoundrel! You're going to stay at home with me" —

"Don't say that until you meet her, Uncle Jim," and, putting his arm around Betty Tabor's waist, he said, "Uncle Jim, I want you to meet Miss Betty Tabor, who has just honored me by promising to become my wife."

"Why, bless my heart! Bless my heart!" exclaimed the old man in surprise. "If it isn't the young woman who sat in the box next to me at the game! I fell in love with you, my dear, when you applauded Larry. Marry her? If you don't marry her, you young rascal, I'll cut you off in my will. Not a penny, you understand – not a penny."

He kissed Betty Tabor gallantly while the others laughed and he bowed low over Mrs. Clancy's hand as Kohinoor presented him to the manager and his wife.

"Are you the Mr. Lawrence they call the Lumber King in Oregon?" inquired Clancy, as he shook hands.

"They call me that out there," said the old man, testily. "Call themselves democratic – then King everyone who makes a few dollars – bah."

"Oh," exclaimed Miss Tabor, in sudden alarm. "Then Larry is rich?"

"Never mind that, sweetheart," he said, consolingly. "We can live on my baseball salary if Uncle Jim cuts us off."

"Cut you off, nonsense!" the old man exclaimed testily. "You'll have all my money if you behave yourself and obey me. Young scoundrel never would obey me."

"I've learned to obey in baseball, uncle," replied Kohinoor seriously. "Ask Mr. Clancy if I haven't."

"I'm so glad, Larry," said Miss Tabor brightly, "that you asked me before I knew you were going to be rich."

"Young rascal must have learned some sense," growled his uncle. "He picked out just the girl I wanted him to. When I saw you at the game, my dear, I said to myself: 'Now if Larry would only choose a girl like that, I'd make her my daughter.'"

"You're the worst flatterer of them all – Mr. – Lawrence," said the girl, blushing and laughing.

"You must call me Uncle Jim, my dear," he insisted in his most tyrannical tones. "And understand, Miss, I'm boss of this family."

"By the way, Kirkland," said Technicalities Feehan, who had been busily engaged studying some statistics he had taken from his pocket, "what did you hit the last year you were at Cascade College?"

"Kirkland?" exclaimed Miss Tabor. "Then your name isn't James Lawrence?"

"I forgot," he responded, laughing at her bewilderment. "Your name will be Mrs. James Lawrence Kirkland; I was named for Uncle Jim. How did you find it out?" he added, turning to Feehan.

"I knew it the second day you were with the Bears," replied Feehan. "I have all your records, excepting those of your final year at the university. Did you hit .332 or .318? The records do not agree."

Ten days later, on the night after the Bears triumphantly won the World's Championship, there was a jolly party in the banquet hall of one of the great hotels. Jimmy McCarthy was giving a farewell dinner to his friends and comrades of the Bear team. The dinner had been eaten, the toasts to the team and its manager drunk, and McCarthy arose.

"Boys," he said, "I'm not going to try to make a speech. I want to thank you all for your kindness to the tramp who came to you when he needed friends. And now my uncle has a little announcement to make which I know you all will be glad to hear."

A round of applause greeted the testy old gentleman as he arose, scolding his nephew for calling upon him. In the ten days that he had traveled with them he had become the idol of the Bears, and he proudly claimed credit for their victories, declared he was their mascot, and called each one by his first name.

"Nothing at all. Just a little matter," he said, testily. "Young rascal shouldn't have mentioned it. All it amounts to is that yesterday I bought Baldwin's stock in this ball club. He's a disgrace to the business. I made him sell out. I'm holding the stock for Clancy. He can have it at the price I paid any time he gets the money. Just bought it to get that crook, Baldwin, out."

He sat down amid a riot of cheering, while Clancy, who had not been informed of the deal, arose and stammered his bewildered thanks, as he strove to realize that a fortune had been thrust upon him. When the excitement had died down and a toast to Mr. Lawrence had been proposed and drunk standing, Betty Tabor, flushed, and appearing prettier than ever, arose.

"Boys," she said, in her low, steady tones, "I have an important announcement to make, one which, I believe, will please you almost as well as the one we just heard did."

She hesitated and smiled down upon her future husband, who sat beside her.

"Boys," she continued, after a moment, "I have consented to permit Larry to play ball with you next season, if he will allow me to travel with the team at least one trip."

Noisy Norton sprang upon his chair, his glass held aloft and cried:

"To the bride, the groom and another pennant."

THE END