The words were uttered in such a sincere manner that they came near dispelling Kennedy’s last doubt. “He’d be a fool to try to keep up a bluff like that,” thought the manager, “and Lefty Locke never was no fool.”
Aloud he said: “That’s the cub I was tellin’ you ’bout who put up a job on my southpaw pitcher when he was gettin’ a try-out with the Hornets. He can pitch, but he’s got a yaller streak, and he’s about as mean as dirt.”
“Will he pitch to-day?” asked Lefty.
“Dunno. Perhaps so. Bristol won’t use him ’less he has to. I see he’s goin’ to warm up with the others. Keep your eye on him.
“Somethin’s gone wrong with the man,” he muttered, as he turned away. “It’s no bluff. His noddle is twisted.”
From the bench, Locke watched the two teams take turns at practice, but for the most part his interest seemed to center in the opposing pitchers, who were warming up. Having been told all about the crippled condition of the Deers’ staff, he realized the probable advantage of the home team with a new man ready to jump on to the slab if needed—a man considered by Bristol a star of the first magnitude.
The critical nature of this game turned out a crowd which filled the bleachers and packed the stands—a crowd bubbling with enthusiasm for the locals, who could obtain an added grip on first position by taking this contest.
And more than nine-tenths of the assemblage seemed to believe such a result a foregone conclusion.
In warming up, Elgin attracted the most attention, for nearly everyone had heard of Bristol’s new man. Knowing the eyes of the crowd were upon him, he posed vainly, and finished limbering his flinger by whipping three or four speedy ones to the catcher which caused many witnesses to gasp.
The time for the game to start came at last, and the clang of a bell called the visitors to their bench, while the locals took the field. Then one of the umpires, with a megaphone, announced:
“Battrees to-day: For Deering, Curley and Coffin. For Hatfield, Jewett and Yapp.”
At this there was a murmur from those who had wished to see the new man pitch. Elgin, hearing this murmur and understanding, laughed to himself.
Chick Collins, the Deers’ right fielder, was the first man to face Jewett, and, as Collins had the reputation of being a man who “waited it out” and made a pitcher put them over, Jewett started in by cutting the pan with the first ball delivered.
To his surprise, Chick did not take one; instead, he met that straight ball on the trade-mark, and cracked it safely into right, which caused the little bunch of Deering fans to give a howl of joy.
“That’s the stuff!” sounded the voice of Peter McLaughlin. “He won’t last an inning at that rate. Go to him, Truly!”
Hen Truly, familiarly known as “Yours Truly,” followed Collins to the plate, fully instructed by Kennedy. Jewett, a bit nervous, threw three times to first to hold the runner close. Then he wasted two while Truly waited and grinned. Having put the twirler in a hole the batter signaled to Collins that he would bunt the next ball pitched, and the runner was off for second with the swing of Jewett’s arm.
Truly dropped a bunt in front of the plate, and stretched himself for first. Jewett fell over himself trying to field the ball, and the attempted sacrifice was turned into a scratch hit when his throw reached first a second too late.
“Where’s your new pitcher?” cried Landlord McLaughlin. “You better put him in right away.”
Bristol remained apparently unmoved upon the bench; but Jewett, glancing toward his manager, knew that he was on the verge of getting the hook.
Joe Digg was the next hitter—Digg, the formidable, who still had the highest batting average among the visitors. Jewett feared Digg; yet to pass him now would fill the corners, with no one down, and Hallett, a man almost as dangerous, followed. In this dilemma, wabbling in the effort to get his pins under him, the Buccaneer flinger sought to coax Digg into reaching.
On the first ball pitched, Truly, seeming to forget that second was occupied, shot down the line. Instantly Yapp winged the ball to first, and even as he did so Collins stretched himself for third. Seeing this, the first baseman attempted to cut Collins off by a throw across, and Truly went on to second. By a fine slide, Collins shot under the third baseman, who made a sweeping, ineffectual jab at him, and then threw to second to stop the crafty Truly. Truly was there ahead of the ball, and had the baseman not been alive to the situation, which led him to whip the sphere to the plate without an instant’s delay, Collins would have tried to score. As it was, he got back to third a second ahead of the ball, and the delayed double steal was a complete success. With second and third occupied, a long single in the right quarter would give the visitors a start of two runs.
Out of the corner of his mouth, Hank Bristol spoke to Bert Elgin.
“Take Putnam,” he said, “and go down into a corner, and keep your arm warm. I may want you any minute.”
Jewett saw the new pitcher and the change catcher leave the bench, and knew what it meant. Desperate, he whipped over a jumper to Digg, who attempted to lace it out, and simply hoisted a short fly to second.
Leaving the bench, Kennedy took Tom Boyd’s place on the coaching line, Boyd being the batter who followed Hallett.
“Got ’em going!” grinned old Jack. “Hit it a mile, Hallett! Give ’em a chance to use their new wizard right away.” While apparently encouraging Hallett to smash the ball, he gave the signal for the squeeze play, which doubtless would be unexpected at this moment, when everything seemed to indicate the immediate downfall of the unsteady pitcher.
Jewett handed up another. With the first hint of his movement Collins started like a shot for the plate. Hallett lifted his bat, held it slack, and bunted. Instead of falling to the ground, the ball rebounded in a little fly, which was caught by Jewett without moving from his tracks.
Collins, warned by a shout, tried to stop. He saw Jewett with the ball, and realized what had happened. The pitcher, elated, laughed at him; and the sphere was tossed to third for a double play, which put an abrupt end to the fine start the Deers had promised to make. It also let Jewett out of a bad hole through a streak of great luck.
Nevertheless it was probable Bristol would use the new man with the coming inning; and far out in a corner of the field Elgin, working easily with the change catcher, awaited the call.