Shortstop from Tokyo (7 page)

“Keep it alive, Stogie!” yelled a fan. “Blast it!”

Stogie waited for a good one. It came in. He cut hard and met the ball solidly. The hit was a clothesline drive over the third
baseman’s head that went for a triple, scoring Sam.

“Are you going to pay Fats after the game, Stoge?” asked Jim, who was coaching third. “That was your fourth hit.”

“Pay, my eye.” Stogie grinned.

Bob walked. Beak socked a double, scoring Stogie. The ball game was tied up! The Mohawk bench jumped and yelled. The Mohawk
fans went almost delirious. The winning run was on third. But the bottom of the batting order was up. The poorest hitters.

Tony waited out the pitches and got a walk! Fats, sweat glistening on his brow, drilled two pitches over the plate on Tom,
and it looked as if the game would go into an extra inning. Then,
crack
! A blow over second! Bob scored! It was over! The Mohawks had done the impossible. They had come from far behind and won,
8 to 7.

Y
OU CAME just in time, Sam!” cried Stogie. “If it weren’t for you we would’ve lost for sure!”

Sam was grinning. “You did okay yourself! Four hits! Oh, man!”

After the shouting died down and the crowd was moving out of the park, Stogie motioned to Sam. “Come here, Sam. I told you
I had something to tell you about your old glove.”

Stogie was with his mother and father and Jill. They all congratulated Sam on
his playing. Beak came running up, too.

“What do you have to tell me?” asked Sam, his eyes flitting from one face to another.

Stogie’s eyes were dancing. “Beak and I, we know what it was that ruined your glove. And it wasn’t me, Sam. I kept telling
you it wasn’t.”

Sam blinked his eyes. He moved his gloved hand behind him. “Who do you think ruined my glove, Stogie?”

“A porcupine.”

“
Porcupine
?” Sam’s brows knitted.

“Yes. Beak and I saw one the other night while we were camping out in his backyard. We heard a noise, something gnawing on
wood, so we crawled out of the tent and saw this animal chewing on Beak’s hatchet. The handle. It stayed long
enough for us to see it and then took off as if its tail was on fire.”

A warm glow started over Sam’s face. “Porcupine, huh? Funny name, porcupine.”

“We’ll show you a picture of it sometime,” said Beak, smiling.

The glow seemed to fade. Was there still doubt in Sam’s mind? And then Stogie remembered that he hadn’t explained everything
to Sam.

“Porcupines like salt,” he said. “They’ll chew up anything that has salt on it. Your glove did. And so did the handle of Beak’s
hatchet. You’ve just got to see that hatchet, Sam. You won’t believe it.”

The glow returned, and Sam’s eyes brightened.

“I will believe it, Stogie,” he said seriously.
“And I believe you. I really do. I just hope you are not mad at me anymore for stealing your position at shortstop.”

Stogie grinned. “I’m not, Sam. And I mean it, too.”

Baseball

Baseball Pals

Catcher with a Glass Arm

The Diamond Champs

The Fox Steals Home

The Kid Who Only Hit Homers

Look Who’s Playing First Base

Miracle at the Plate

No Arm in Left Field

Shortstop from Tokyo

The Year Mom Won the Pennant

Basketball

Johnny Long Legs