The Argosy, September 1915 — page 216: what you’re looking at

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

430 Just to show that their confidence was fully and completely at home, the loyal Guerrilla fans rose up and cheered Skirm to the echo. ‘They begged him, ‘‘ Don’t mind that!” and stamped and howled till he doffed his cap. But when he gave the next man, Hoffman, three straight balls they suspended their vocal exercises to in- dulge in breathless prayers to the great god Mars to laurel them in glorious victory. As Skirm stepped into the box to pitch the next ball his knees suddenly sagged, his arms dropped limply to his sides, his head bobbed forward and back, and then, after a lengthening pause Ker-choo! Came a terrific sneeze. The crowd laughed. The Colonels’ coach at first base growled at Conway: “You could have gone down on that!” Then, raising his voice: “The cold in his feet has gone to his head! Come on, Hoffman! ”’ And Hoffman obeyed his team- mate’s iftjunction, for just as he was about to deliver the ball, Skirm had to sneeze again, and the fourth ball sailed perilously wide of the plate, only the catcher’s agility preventing a passed ball. Captain Gleason, of the Colonels, now faced Skirm. The Colonel root- ers seemed to be on the verge of madness. Men were screaming and dancing and profanely entreating Gleason to “ Kill it!” and “ Hit it a mile!” ‘Smash it!” and .“ Knock the cover off the ball!” With another twitch of the head and a perfectly audible ker-choo! ~Skirm jerked up a ball that did not come within hailing distance of the plate, but the heavy-hitting Gleason, not to be denied, lunged viciously for it and caught it on the end of his fear- ful bat. Up—vup! soared the ball, a white-clad Guerrilla in the right field speeding swiftly under it, arm up- raised. Higher and higher the white THE ARGOSY. - sphere mounted, and then dropped gracefully over the fence—just three feet inside foul territory. A Gargantuan sigh came from the Guerrilla rooters; but the Colonel fans were on their feet, roaring like unto the bulls of Bashan: = He's: alt inf” “Put it there again, old scout!” “Don't let him walk you, Glea- son!” “It’s all over now!” These and similar admonitions and bits of advice were screamed from hundreds of hoarse throats. To Guer- rilla fans it really seemed as if the mis- chief was as good as done and the doubtful issue decided. “Now everybody move!” barked the Colonel coachers. “ He’s up in the air—the yellow’s showing! Go get him! Go get him!” With wide grins the runners walked off their bases and began prancing along the paths; Gleason clutched his bat, his jaw set, and the din in the stands and bleachers rose to Bedlam pitch. | Skirm gave a resolute hitch at his belt and stepped into the pitcher’s box. His nose wrinkled, his features corru- gated amid a roar of laughter from players and spectators to whom he . was the cynosure of all eyes... . And _ then— “ Kerchoo!” he emitted, and rifled the ball to First-baseman Tolin, who tagged the dumfounded Hoffman a good yard away from the base for the third and final out. : “Tt wasn’t a cold, boss,”’ Skirm told Manager McNabb in the dressing- room. “I lost everything I had all of a sudden, and I couldn’t make that ball behave. I sneezed to make the guys on base get reckless while I pre- tended to be trying to get the batter between kerchoos.”’ “You're a nut, Skirm,” said Man- ager Tommy, chuckling—“ just the kind of a nut to fit our old wagon. Get me?” EOPMICLOOOKS (C@)