Miracle at the Plate (3 page)

A single drove in the run, and the Dinosaurs led 3 to 1. Roger caught a high fly in deep center for the third out of the inning
and trotted in with a cocky look on his face. Near the dugout the expression changed to one of disgust as he looked at Skeeter.
Skeeter pretended he didn’t see it.

At the plate, things were a little different. Skeeter had forgotten his worries about Pancho after the first inning. His second
time up he slashed out a three-bagger. On his third time up he hit a homer with two on.

“Thataway, Skeeter!” yelled the girl in the stands.

Tommy Scott replaced him in the fifth. He corked a single, then got out when he failed to tag up on a caught fly ball.

The side was retired. Roger, running out
to his position in center field, patted Tommy on the shoulder.

It’s okay to be pals,
thought Skeeter,
but why does Roger prefer to have Tommy play instead of me? Anybody can see that Tommy is no hitter. And he really isn’t much
better than I am in the outfield.

The game ended with the Milky Ways winning 8 to 5.

The next afternoon Skeeter telephoned Dr. Wiggins and received some happy news.

“Yes, Pancho is coming along fine, Skeeter,” said the doctor. “You can come over and take him home, but better watch him for
a few days. Don’t let him run around. And see that he is fed only once each day and very little, at that.”

Skeeter got the basket in which he had taken Pancho to the vet, and went over to Shadow’s house. He told Shadow that he was
going to pick up Pancho and take him to
Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Rob’s and asked if Shadow would like to go along.

“Of course,” said Shadow. “But I can’t go on my bike. I’ve got a flat.”

“Okay. We’ll walk,” said Skeeter. “It’s only a little way out.”

So the two of them walked to Dr. Wiggins’s office and picked up Pancho. Skeeter was worried about how to pay the doctor. He
didn’t have much money in his bank. Dr. Wiggins’s bill surely would be much more than he had. Well, whatever it was, he’d
earn money somehow to pay for it.

Pancho didn’t look any different than on the day Skeeter had taken him to the vet. Guess he just couldn’t be any skinnier,
or fatter. The splint was still on his leg. He’d need it for another week or so, explained the doctor.

Skeeter was embarrassed when the moment came to ask for the bill. Finally he
asked, and then waited to hear the doctor mention a large sum. After all, besides fixing up Pancho, the doctor had housed
the dog for almost a week.

Dr. Wiggins looked seriously at Skeeter, then at Shadow. “Remember those doughnuts you gave me?” he said, pressing a hard
finger against Skeeter’s chest. “Bring me another half a dozen sometime and we’ll call it square. Fair enough?”

Skeeter stared at him.

“Get out of here.” The doctor motioned as if he were in a hurry to get rid of them. “And don’t forget those doughnuts. Okay?”

“Yes, sir!” smiled Skeeter, and hustled out of the room with Pancho nestled in the basket and Shadow at his heels.

Four blocks and they were out of the village. They began climbing the hill that led to Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Rob’s home.

“Shadow, remember me telling you that
we’re going to visit my aunt and uncle in Idaho sometime this summer?” Skeeter said.

“Yes. Said you’re going when your dad has his vacation.”

“Right. Well, it starts next Monday, so we’re leaving this Saturday by jet.”

“Boy! Wish I could go with you! I’ve never ridden on a jet. Have you?”

“No.” But flying by jet wasn’t what he was thinking about. “Shadow, will you take care of my pet falcon Gus while we’re gone?”

“Sure I will.”

“Thanks. All you have to do is feed him once in the morning and once at night. A small cup and the feed are next to his cage.
Let him out once in a while for exercise. He’ll fly back after five minutes or so.”

“It’ll be a cinch, Skeet,” said Shadow.

A car drove up beside them and stopped. “Want a ride?” a voice asked. It was Tommy Scott! And behind the wheel was the girl
from the baseball game! The girl who had done all that crazy shouting!

Skeeter blushed. He put his hand, which had suddenly begun to tremble, over the white linen cloth which covered Pancho. “No,
thanks,” he said nervously. “We’re not going far.”

“Oh, get in, Skeeter,” persuaded the girl, smiling good-naturedly. “We can talk baseball. I’m Jan, Tommy’s sister. And you’re
Shadow, aren’t you?” She looked at Shadow.

“Yes,” said Shadow, bobbing his head.

“You sure you don’t want to ride?” said Tommy. Skeeter realized now how closely the girl resembled him.

“We’re sure,” he replied, and tried to smile. “We don’t mind walking.”

Just then the tiny warm animal under Skeeter’s hand stirred. Then he barked. And he barked again and again.

S
keeter stared at the lumpy linen cloth stirring in the basket and then at Tommy and his sister Jan. He wished he could disappear
then and there. Or that the world would swallow him up. Anything so he wouldn’t have to face those two in the car.

“That’s Pancho!” Tommy cried. “You’ve got Pancho in that basket!”

The little Mexican Chihuahua struggled free of the cloth and poked his small head out of the basket. His big round eyes saw
Tommy and he barked again. A happy bark, followed by a whimper.

Tommy opened the door, jumped out and picked the little animal up into his arms. “Pancho!” he cried, cuddling the chihuahua.
“My Pancho!”

“Skeeter!” exclaimed Tommy’s sister, her brown eyes growing wide as chestnuts.
“You
took Pancho!”

“I didn’t
steal
him,” said Skeeter, his throat suddenly aching terribly.

“We were going to bring him back,” Shadow explained. “Just as soon as he got well again.”

“Well again?” Tommy’s hot eyes shot from Skeeter to Shadow. “What do you mean ‘well again’?” And then he noticed the splint
on Pancho’s leg. “What’s this?”

“I struck him with my bike,” confessed Skeeter, unable to look Tommy directly in the eyes.

“You struck him, and you never told me? You — you nut!”

“Tommy!” yelled his sister. “Let Skeeter explain, will you?”

Skeeter took a deep breath, let it out, then explained how he had accidentally struck Pancho with his bike, and how he had
taken the little animal to Dr. Wiggins and had left it there and why he was taking it to Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Bob’s now.

“I — I was going to bring Pancho back to you as soon as he got real well again,” Skeeter finished, glad that at last he had
the secret off his chest.

“You should’ve told me about it when it happened,” Tommy shot back angrily. “I thought somebody had stolen him! Just like
Roger says — you’re a meathead! A hundred percent meathead!”

He jumped into the car, his eyes wet and blazing.

“Tommy,” said his sister, calmly, “Skeeter did what he thought best. He took Pancho
to the vet, didn’t he? He helped save Pancho’s life.” She turned to the boys. An apologetic look came over her face. Then
a smile. “Get in, boys. I’ll take you home.”

“No, thanks,” said Skeeter. “We can walk back.”

The girl looked at him. The smile faded a little. “Well, guess I can’t blame you. Thanks very much for what you did for Pancho.”

She released the brake, stepped on the accelerator, and drove off. Skeeter and Shadow headed back down the hill for home.

“You can’t win,” murmured Shadow disgustedly.

“Guess maybe I should’ve told him so he wouldn’t have worried so,” said Skeeter. “Guess that’s what I should’ve done, Shadow.
You saw his face the minute he saw Pancho. He almost cried he was so happy.”

“Yes. I saw him,” said Shadow.

The Milky Ways played the Dragonflies on Thursday. Skeeter had planned to tell Coach Jess O’Hara after the game about his
going to Idaho, but the coach had already known about it. Some of the guys had told him.

Jimmy Sutton started in left field instead of Skeeter. He caught a couple of flies and popped to short. Skeeter took his place
in the third inning and the first time he doubled. It was the second hit off Cal Fielding, the Dragonflies’ star right-handed
pitcher. Roger Hyde had got the first one.

Bogy Adams corked a line drive to right center which the fielder caught on the first hop. Skeeter tore around third and bolted
for home in a desperate attempt to beat the throw.

“Slide, Skeeter!” someone shouted.

“Hit it, Skeet!” yelled the coach. “Hit the dirt!”

He was sure he would make it without sliding, though. He could tell by the look on the catcher’s face that the ball wasn’t
anywhere near home yet.

And then, within two steps of the plate, the catcher caught the relayed throw-in from the pitcher and tagged Skeeter. “Out!”
yelled the umpire.

“You meathead!” yelled Roger. “Why didn’t you hit the dirt? You would’ve been safe!”

Skeeter ran to the dugout, his head bowed. He wouldn’t admit he was scared to slide.

He socked a long one to deep center the next time up. The fielder just barely caught it. The third time up he singled. But
in the outfield he missed three, the third one happening with the score tied and a man on third. It decided the game. The
Dragonflies edged out the Milky Ways, 4 to 3.

Jess O’Hara put an arm around Skeeter’s shoulder and smiled. “Skeeter, you’ve got the eyes of a hawk when it come to batting.
But in the outfield they don’t seem to do much good, do they?”

Skeeter nodded sadly. “Guess not,” he admitted.

“Well, you just keep hitting that ball. That’s what brings in the runs,” said the coach. “And — oh, yes — have a nice time
in Idaho.”

“Thanks,” replied Skeeter.

E
arly Saturday morning Mom, Dad, Bob, and Skeeter took a taxi to the airport, where they boarded a plane to New York City.
In New York they got on a jetliner for Idaho. It was the thrill of a lifetime for Skeeter. He had seen jets flying thousands
of feet in the air, but never had he been near one. Now had come the greatest moment of all. He was going to ride in one.

Mom and Dad sat together in the big plane and Skeeter sat with Bob, Skeeter next to the window. The jet taxied down the
runway, gained speed rapidly, then lifted into the air.

Skeeter felt a strange sensation in his stomach as he watched the earth seeming to fall farther and farther away below them.
The ground became a blanket of many colors. The trees, houses, and the moving automobiles began to look like tiny models.

They sped on, rising higher and higher, until they flew through thick blankets of clouds and then above them. Overhead was
the ocean of blue sky. Skeeter watched with awe.
What a ride!
he thought.

They had lunch on the plane. They crossed over rivers and lakes, tiny towns and great cities. They stopped once on their route,
dispatching passengers and picking up new ones.

Late that afternoon the jetliner landed
at Boise Airport. From there the Miracles took a limousine service to Spring City, fifty miles away. Uncle Don and Aunt Arlene
and Skeeter’s cousins Alan and Tina Rose were waiting for them.

How big Alan was! thought Skeeter. And the last time he had seen Tina Rose was when she was a baby. That was five years ago.

Uncle Don looked a little like Dad. That was, of course, because they were brothers. Guess by the way they shook hands and
smiled at each other they just couldn’t wait for this moment to come — when they could go hunting and fishing together again
for a while.

As they rode in Uncle Don’s station wagon to their home, Skeeter looked at the buildings and streets almost with disappointment.
“Spring City’s no different from home,” he said.

Bob chuckled. “What did you expect to see? Dirt roads for streets and horse and wagons instead of cars?”

Skeeter shrugged. “I don’t know. The only big difference seems to be the hilly streets.”

“Idaho’s full of mountains,” said Alan, who was sitting beside him.

“Is there any place flat enough to play baseball?”

Alan laughed. “Oh, sure. We even have a Midget League. I play second base on our team, the Deerslayers.”

“Good! How’s the team?”

“We’re okay. Just unlucky.”

Skeeter looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re in fifth place. Next to the bottom. We ought to be in second, at least. Do you play, Skeet?”

Skeeter nodded and caught Bob’s eyes
smiling at him. Alan saw it, too. He grinned. “I suppose you’re the star, or something?” he said.

“You might call it that,” said Bob.

“I’m no star,” corrected Skeeter. “I’ve got a dozen feet when I’m chasing a ball in the outfield, and they’re all going in
different directions. Only thing I can do is hit.”

“I’m just fair,” admitted Alan. “I can’t hit and can’t field.”

Uncle Don stopped at a red light, and Skeeter noticed how steep the street was. There weren’t many people on the sidewalk.
Other than being hilly, everything was like back home.

The Skeeter heard a loud, rackety sound to his right. Two boys were whizzing down the sidewalk on skateboards. They were sitting
down, their knees drawn up and their hands clutching the narrow sides.

“Wow!” exclaimed Skeeter. “Those guys are really moving!”

“That’s because of the hilly streets, I suppose,” Alan replied. “We have races here, too. Slaloms, they’re called. The streets
are blocked off and cans are put every few yards apart, and you skateboard in and out of them. It’s fun.”

“I bet,” said Skeeter. The two boys on the skateboards were turning the corner, their bodies leaning far over to their right
side. An instant later they were out of sight around the buildings. Boy! thought Skeeter. Can they ride those things!

“Can you skateboard?” Alan asked.

“No. But I’d sure like to. A lot of kids back home skateboard, but Mom and Dad think it’s dangerous.”

“They are if you’re not careful,” admitted Alan. “It takes a lot of practice to be good. After that it’s easy.”

A thought occurred to Skeeter. “Do you have a skateboard, Alan?”