"If it keeps up like this, there'll be more fun than practice," thought Rob, as he buckled on his protector. And to Patterson, as the latter started for the box, he said: "Don't worry about the bases; I'll throw to them when it's necessary. Just try your hardest to put 'em where I want 'em, and don't worry. If a batter's slow or timid, give him full speed. And don't think because one happens to hit you they all will."
McPherson led off for the First nine. Patterson fixed the ball in his two fingers and drove it hard and straight over the inner corner of the plate just below the shoulder line. It struck with a resounding clap in Owen's big mitt, and as it struck, McPherson realized that he had lost a chance. As the next one looked exactly like the first, McPherson whacked valiantly at it, but just before it reached the plate the ball broke and lifted, while the bat swept the air beneath it. Two strikes!
"It's all his way now," thought McPherson. "This'll be a ball,"—and it would have been if it had kept its first course. Unfortunately for the batsman, however, it slanted down and in instead of down and out, and the umpire called it a strike.
"Astonishing how a man loses his batting eye during the winter!" thought Poole, as he took McPherson's place at the plate. "If I can't hit that fellow I must be blind."
Now the captain was considered the best batter in school, and deservedly so. In the fatal Hillbury game of the year before he had proved almost the only Seaton man whom the Hillbury pitcher could not deceive, and he and McPherson were responsible for all the hits the defeated team had made. He had an excellent eye, watched the ball closely, and was a patient waiter. All this Owen knew. He also knew that a waist ball was the kind Poole always longed for, that he was wary on high ones, and often hit a low one in a long fly. Patterson's first attempt was clearly wide of the plate; his second was low. Poole offered at neither, and both were called balls. By the next ball, the same full-speed straight one which had fooled McPherson, Poole was caught napping, and the sharp "Strike one!" of the umpire gave comfort to both members of the battery. Rob now signalled for the slow ball, at which Poole struck too soon. With two balls and two strikes, Patterson put a low one over the outside of the plate, hoping to finish with the captain immediately; but Poole caught it on the end of his bat and sent it in a long arch to centre field, where Rorbach gathered it in. Sudbury, who came next, struck at the first pitched ball and raised a pop fly, which the second baseman, to Owen's surprise and McGuffy's own immense satisfaction, managed to hold. Reddy tossed the ball over to the pitcher's box with the best air of a professional, and strutted complacently in. The first inning had ended with the score two to nothing in favor of the scrub.
O'Connell pitched six times to strike out Smart. Meanwhile, Owen and Patterson discussed the situation.
"Great luck, wasn't it!" began the pitcher, eagerly.
"The greatest luck was that McGuffy held that fly," Rob answered with more coolness. With all his interest in the trying-out process, habit and experience kept him philosophical. "I didn't believe he'd do it."
"He may be better than he looks," said Patterson.
Rob had no answer for this. "How's your arm?" he said.