"WOULD YOU LIKE TO PITCH?"
"Come now, fellows, let's get into practice. Are all the scrub here?"
Darrell Blackney looked around over the diamond, where about twenty lads
were assembled one fine afternoon.
"I don't know about the scrub, but all our fellows are on hand," replied
Rankin. "Is it all arranged about the game Saturday?"
"Yes, we're to play the Fayetteville Academy lads on their grounds."
"A trip out of town, eh? That's two in two weeks."
"Well it gives our fellows experience in playing on some other diamond
than their own."
"Oh, it doesn't much matter. The Fayettevilles will be easy fruit for
us."
"Don't be too sure. They're a younger team, that's true, and they
haven't been doing well this season, but neither have we of late."
"Oh, we'll beat 'em," declared the captain confidently.
"I think so myself, but I don't want you to take too many chances. Here
comes Sam. You and he get in for some warm-up work, Bart, and I'll get
the scrub together."
Darrell went about the diamond, calling to the various members of the
"scrub," or second team.
"We haven't any pitcher," remarked Blake Carrington, who acted as
captain of the scrub organization.
"What's the matter with Slater?"
"He hasn't showed up, and none of the other fellows feel like getting in
the box against you boys. You'll have to find us a pitcher before we can
play."
A sudden idea came to Darrell.
"All right," he answered. "I guess I can. Wait a minute."
He ran over to where Rankin was talking to some of his players.
"Can you play Tom Davis in centre field for to-day?" asked the manager.
"Yes, I guess so. Why?"
"I'm going to have Joe Matson pitch on the scrub. It will be a good time
to get a line on him, and I'll see if he shapes up as well as the day
he did when I watched him practice."
"All right; maybe it will be a good idea."
Joe hardly knew what to say when Darrell, as calmly as if he had done it
several times before, asked him to go in the box for the scrub and pitch
against the Silver Stars.
"And do your best," added Darrell. "I don't care how many of our fellows
you strike out. Every one, if you can."
Joe's heart gave a bound of delight. It might be the beginning of the
very chance he had been waiting for so long. He calmed himself with an
effort for he did not want to get "rattled."
"All right," he answered as though he had been used to such sudden
emergency calls all season. "I'll see what I can do. I'd like a chance
to warm up, though."
"Sure. You and Jake Bender go over there and practice for five minutes.
Then we'll play a five-inning game."
The Stars were to bat first, and there was a mocking smile on the face
of Sam Morton as he watched his rival go to the box.
"Don't strike us all out," called Sam. "We've had hard luck enough
lately."
The game began, and it was for "blood" from the very start. Joe was a
trifle nervous, especially when he had two balls called on his first two
efforts. Then he braced himself, and, not trying for speed, sent in a
slow, easy ball that completely fooled the batter, who eventually struck
out.
"Pretty good for a starter," complimented Darrell. Sam Morton scowled.
The next batter hit an easy fly which was so promptly gathered in by the
shortstop that there was little use in the player starting for first.
Then Joe struck out the next lad after he had hit a couple of fouls.
"That's the stuff!" cried Tom Davis, as he patted his chum on the back.
"You'll be in the box for the Stars yet."
"Don't get me all excited," begged Joe with a smile. Yet he could not
help feeling elated.
There was a viciousness in the pitching of Sam when he toed the plate
that showed how his feelings had been stirred. He was evidently going to
show how much superior he was.
He did strike out two men, and then came Joe's turn at the bat. Our hero
thought he detected a gleam of anger in Sam's eyes.
"He'd just as soon hit me with a ball as not," thought Joe, "and if he
does it will hurt some. And he may be trying to bluff me so that I
won't stand up to the plate. I'll see what I can do to him."
Consequently, instead of waiting for the ball to get to him Joe stepped
up and out to meet it before the curve "broke." He "walked right into
it," as the baseball term has it, and the result was that he whacked out
a pretty two-bagger that brought his mates to their feet with yells. Sam
bit his lips in anger, but he kept his temper by an effort and struck
out the next man so that Joe's effort resulted in nothing.
The game went on, and when Sam at bat faced Joe, our hero could not help
feeling a trifle nervous. He had sized up Sam's style of batting,
however, and was prepared.
"I'm going to give him a slow ball with an in-shoot to it," decided Joe.
"He keeps back from the plate and this will make him get still farther
back. I'm going to strike him out."
And strike him out Joe did, though not until after Sam had hit one foul
that was within a shade of being fair. But when on his next two strikes
he fanned the wind, there was a look of wonder and gratification on the
face of Darrell.
"I believe Joe is going to make good," he said to Rankin.
"It sure looks so. What about it?"
"You'll see in a minute. I'm going to give him a chance to pitch part of
the game against the Fayetteville Academy nine--that is if you agree to
it."
"Sure, go as far as you like."
At the close of the game, which was won by the Stars, though by a small
margin, Darrell approached Joe.
"Well?" asked the new pitcher diffidently.
"You did first rate. How would you like to pitch part of the game
Saturday?"
"Do you mean it?" was the eager question.
"Certainly. I'll put you in for a few innings toward the end, after
we've cinched it, for I think it will be easy for us."
It was not the highest honor that could have come to Joe, but he
realized what it meant.
"I'd like it immensely," he said, "but won't Sam--what about him?"
"I don't care anything about him," said Darrell quickly. "I'm running
this team. Will you pitch?"
"I sure will!" and Joe's heart beat high with hope.