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- e Petronel tried to peer out of the great lantern around her, but the light was too glaring, and she went down to the window on the stair landing. Pressing her face against the pane, she made out the port lights on the Queen, as she turned toward that beckoning path. “She’s coming in, Mother dear!” she cried. And as the steamer made the harbor in safety, after threading that narrow channel of peril, Madame Buteau held Petronel close in her arms, and thanked God for the lives that were saved from old Michigan that night. It was Monday morning when Petronel came down the walk from the hotel, and her face was so smiling that when Hardy saw it, he smiled too, out of sympathy. For out of the many who had faced death on the Queen of the Straits, had been Senator Rathburn's own wife and daughter, and all during that night of storm and dread, he had paced the hotel porches and the beach, watching the steady, faithful pathway of guidance that the Point light sent out; and he had sent for Petronel the next day to tell her what he thought of a girl who could stand at her post like that. “What did he say, Pet?” Hardy asked, as they swung away from the summer crowd, and took the short cut over the sand-hills to the light.
“Did he say you should have a medal like the captain P”
Petronel laughed, and shook her head.
“He did n't say anything like that. He just told me our light was the bravest light along the lakes, and that we could keep it. He is going to tell them in Washington that nobody can tend the Point light so well as Madame Buteau and Petronel Buteau.”
“We could have told him that all along !” said Hardy. “It is just because his own folks were on the boat that he knew how precious the light can be.”
But Petronel shook her head.
“Mother says that love is the light that burns forever, and if he loved his own folks so, he will think of the others who were saved too, and thank our light for it.”
And it happened just as she said, for only a month later, when the big resort had closed for the season, and the Point began to look bare with the autumn gales, a long, official letter came from Washington, with the appointment in it of Madame Buteau as tender of Point au Manitou lighthouse. So it said, and justly; but everybody among the shore people, and on the boats that saluted as they passed, called it Petronel's light.
BY DR. S. J. FORT
IF you will take your atlas and look at the map of Spain, you will see three islands of different sizes some distance from the western coast, the largest being called Majorca, the next largest, Minorca, and the smallest, Iviza, the entire group being known as the Balearic Islands. The name “Balearic” is derived from a Greek word meaning “the slingers,” and was applied from the remarkable skill shown by the inhabitants in the use of the sling, at one time the only rival of the bow and arrow as a missile weapon. Perhaps you will remember reading in history that the Spartan boys were early "taught to ride, shoot, and tell the truth, the most severe punishments being meted out to delinquents in these foundational principles of education. We are also told that in the early days of the settlement of our own country, the boy who went hunting had his bullets counted. If he failed to bring
back game for each bullet expended, there was an uncomfortable quarter of an hour waiting for him, if the explanation of the missed shot was not satisfactory. Even the nursery jingles tell us that a certain Thomas Tucker was obliged to sing for his supper. The island “slingers’ ” plan went even farther than this, for they placed the food of their children on tall poles, and the inexpert marksman went hungry if he failed to bring down a meal with a well-directed stone. These primitive parents did not believe in making hunger a spur to the attainment of skill and then supplying intermediate lunches to the unskilful, so we can well believe that every boy became expert with his weapon, and that the fighting strength of the islanders was thus kept to a high figure of merit, so high, in fact, that the geographical name of the group has preserved it for all time.
(A sequel to “The Battle of Base-ball")
BY C. H. CLAUDY
CHAPTER III THE FINE ART OF FIELDING
EveRY ball-player has an ambition; every ballplayer has to avoid digging a pit for himself. The batter's ambition is a base-hit; the pit he would avoid, being struck out. The pitcher's ambition is a no-hit game; the pits he must not tumble into are wildness, passing batters, and allowing hits with men on bases. The fielder's ambition is to play his game without error or misplay; his pit, a mistake of judgment or “bonehead” play, which is far worse than the making of an error. Errors must happen to the best of fielders, at times. In nothing more does the attaining of ambition show to greater advantage, nor the results of failing to achieve it look uglier, than in the making of any play which results in an “f. c.” in the score as an indication of how a certain runner attained a certain base. The “fielder's choice” looks innocent enough. It means that the man who gets the ball has two or more places to which he can throw it with the chance of retiring a runner. He chooses one, and either gets, or does not get, the runner; and the runner, going to the base he did not choose, is safe. But while the play may be errorless, it may be a misplay, a mistake, a “bonehead” play, and the game may be lost, then and there. There was, for instance, a fielder's choice in the last World's Championship game between New York and the Philadelphia Athletics in 1911, which, had the fielder made a mistake, would seriously have affected the score of that game, perhaps even the series. No mistake was made, the fielder having perfect judgment in addition to errorless play; but an inspection of the diagram will easily show “what might have been.” The final score of the first game, played in New York, Mathewson pitching against Bender, was two to one in favor of New York. With the score one to one in the fifth inning, Bender, at bat, hit to center, reaching first base safely. Lord followed him, and hit a sharp grounder to Merkle, New York's first baseman. Bender had to run for second, to make place for Lord. “Matty,” like the fine fielding pitcher he is, covered first base. Merkle could throw either to first or second base and make an errorless play. By throwing to first base, he would get a
That is what actually happened; and no one thought anything of it. Yet the game may have hinged on that one play. For Oldring, the next man up, batted for two bases, and Lord went from first to third. Had Lord previously been put out at first, and Bender (who would thus have been safe) been on second when that twobase hit was made, he must have scored. That would have made the score two to one in favor of Philadelphia; as New York made a run later, the score would then have been tied, and nobody knows who would have won in the end
A pretty instance of a fielder's choice, which resulted in a double play, was seen early in the 1912 season, in a game between the Athletics and the Washington club, American League. Brown, a recruit pitcher of the Athletics, was pitching, and was so unfortunate at one time as to have the bases full and only one out. The batter bunted to the pitcher. Brown fielded the ball, and had the greatest possible number of fielder's choices open to him, since the ball, fielded to any base, would retire a runner. But had it been fielded anywhere else than to home plate, the man coming in from third would have scored, and
Bases full, one out. Batter bunts to pitcher. Pitcher fields ball, throws to catcher. Runner coming in from third is forced out. Catcher does n’t have to tag him, and throws to first baseman, who covers the bag, returning the runner who has just batted. Double Fo i. the i. no i. *: pitcher o o any other o: o orce out, there wou ave lotteil a SCOre all ult one out on the there would have been only one out on that play, or two all together, and a chance for another score should the next batter hit cleanly. But the pitcher, in spite of the big lead of the runner from third, knowing the catcher would not have to touch the runner, threw “home.” Egan, the catcher, caught the ball, stepped on the plate, and hurled the ball to McInnis, who had run in and covered first, the ball beating the runner by a hair, completing a double play, and retiring the side without a score, simply on a wise fielder's choice Note that the diagram shows Collins and Baker covering their bases, as well as McInnis. They could n't know what Brown was going to do, and they had to be ready for any play he might choose to try to make. You may argue from this that the fielder's
choice should always be to get the leading man on the paths. It should—if there is a fair chance to get him | But to try for the leading man when the chances are against you is poor play. The old base-ball truism, “One out is better than none out,” applies here very strongly. Play for the leading runner if there is a chance of getting him; but if there is not, play for the runner you can get, even if the other man scores. Very frequently, with a man on first when the batter lays down a sacrifice, you hear the stands crying madly, “Second base ! second base !” in a wellmeant endeavor to tell the fielder where to throw the ball. Then, when he turns and throws to first base with seemingly plenty of time to throw to second, the stands cry “Bonehead” at the player who has made a perfectly correct play. For he saw, perhaps, even if the spectators did not, that he would have to wait an instant for short-stop or second baseman to get in position to take the throw, and rather than take that chance, preferred a sure “out” at first. You can be very sure that had he thrown to second and the runner beaten the ball, and the fielder at second thrown too late to first base to get the other runner, the cries of “Bonehead” would have been just as loud It is sad but true that, in the mad desire to see the home team win, the average onlooker has little sense of the possible in base-ball, or consideration for the player who does not do the impossible. With a man on second base and a sacrifice bunt to be tried, have you ever wondered why the ball is often laid down the third base line instead of the first 2 Putting the ball down the third base line means that the fielder who gets it—probably the pitcher—must run away from first base, field the ball, and then take his choice between throwing it to third, base to catch the runner coming in from second, or making a long throw to first base. If the former is his choice, the third baseman must not only catch the ball, but touch the runner with it before he touches the bag. As the man on second usually has a long lead, and as fielding a bunt which seems to crawl on the ground is often slow work, the chances are all in the runner's favor, under such circumstances. Consequently, the ball is usually fielded to first, because at the initial corner there is no need of touching the runner; the ball merely has to beat him to it to effect a put-out. Hence the need of bunting down the third base line instead of the first base line; to make the throw as long as possible, and give the runner as much time as may be to beat the ball, thus turning the attempted sacrifice bunt into a hit, and increasing the chances of a subsequent score.
Lads who play base-ball should make it a rule to think out in their own minds, swiftly but accurately, just what they will do with the ball if it comes to them, and before they do it. But this thinking out should not be to the effect that “If I get the ball, I will throw to first base for the runner,” because that is a mental command which may well be obeyed in the excitement of the play, when the best place for the ball may be elsewhere. The making up of one's mind and the mental command should be entirely different: to the effect that “a double play is possible, if the ball is batted so I must run near second to get it,” or, “I’ll field it to first if it's a bunt I run in on, but if it 's a ground ball I have to play back on, I 'll send it to second.” Leave yourself a “fielder's choice” in your mind, but never fail to calculate before each play what it may be possible to do, should the ball come your way; and make these calculations with a full knowledge of the inning, the score, and the “outs.” Often, of course, there is but one thing to do, in which case the play is easier. Thus, with a man on third and less than two out, almost any infield hit should be fielded “home” rather than to first base, because of the more than usual chances of retiring the runner. On the other hand, with two out and a man on third, almost any infield hit should, of course, be fielded to first, because the third out is easier made there than anywhere else, the runner not having to be touched by the ball. And if the batter is out at first, the runner on third cannot score. The theory and practice of “backing up” is a part of the game which deserves more serious attention than it usually receives from amateur teams. And it is in young teams, where wild throws, over throws, short throws, and other misplays are more common than in older teams, that such a necessity exists. The writer knows of one team of lads, the average age of whom is twelve years, which cleaned up all the opposing teams they could get to play with them on this one feature. Some one had started their captain on the road to success by convincing him of the necessity of every player backing up his neighbor, and he had made all his team practise the stunt so thoroughly that, although his fielders threw as wildly as their opponents, there was always a player backing up the man to whom the ball was thrown; and instead of opposing runners
runners on first and second bases. Cole put over a good one, and Murray hit it for a sharp drive through fair territory between first and second bases. Saier, first baseman for Chicago, dived over to get the ball. Tinker covered second base. Evers, seeing Saier going for the ball, backed him up. Now, had Saier fielded the ball, he had
How Evers BACKED UP the FIRST BASEMAN AND M.A.D E A PUt-OUT At SECON D.
Runners on first and second. Batter hits the ball midway between
first and second—first baseman goes after ball. Short-stop covers second, third baseman gets on his base. If first baseman fields ball to second, he probably gets a force out, and if short-stop is a good pivot, he may is: a double play at third. If first baseman misses the ball, one run is certain, unless second baseman fields ball by backing up first baseman, when he may get a put-out at second, but, at any rate, holds the runner at third. He might also get a put-out at first base (not shown here) if the pitcher covered first base. If second baseman does not back up first baseman, the ball goes for a hit, and a run is scored— possibly even two runs.
a fielder's choice between three bases, although a throw to third would probably have been foolish. But he had a good chance for a put-out at second, and a possible double to first or third. Saier, however, did not get the ball. It struck his hands and bounded over his head. But it bounded into Evers's hands. Evers threw to second in time to get Snodgrass, the out at second was thus made, and Doyle, on third, did not get a chance to score. Had Evers not backed Saier up, the ball would have rolled to right field, and the chances are that both Snodgrass and Doyle would have scored In this play, Evers had nothing else to do. Saier was fielding the ball, which belonged to him; Tinker, the short-stop, was covering second base; and Cole was on the run to first in case the play should be made there. Another player might have said, “Oh, I 'll take a chance. Saier is a