But the word was not heard in the tremendous roar which went up from the grand stand.
“Bully work, old fellow!” Glen Gardiner said enthusiastically, as they trotted in from the field. “You shut them out beautifully. Shoulder all right?”
“Fine!” Dick returned.
“Well, we’ll see if we can’t get a run or two,” the curly haired captain went on, as he selected a bat. “Nothing like getting a good start.”
But his hopes were soon shattered.
McDonough proved something of a surprise to the Yale men as they watched his work from the bench. He was not at all the type of man of which good pitchers are usually made. Huge almost to unwieldiness, with muscles sticking out like great cords, at first sight he seemed to lack the supple, flexible, swiftness so necessary to good work in the box. Neither did his rough, brutal face give any indication of mental agility and well-developed brain power, without which no twirler can succeed.
In spite of all this, however, he did astonishingly well. His chief reliance was a swift straight ball which started high and ended with a sharp drop. Besides this he was the master of a few good curves. But what surprised Merriwell was his amazing headwork. He seemed almost to read the mind of the man at the bat, and, by some marvelous intuition, to give him just the sort of ball he was not expecting.
Two strikes were called on Gardiner, who then popped an easy fly to the infield and was caught out.
Reddy Maxwell promptly fanned, to the tumultuous enjoyment of the mine crowd on the bleachers.
Tucker managed to bang a hot liner past second and got to first by the skin of his teeth. Urged by Gardiner, who was coaching, he danced off the cushion and, with the first ball pitched to Arthur Dean, he scudded down the line like a streak of greased lightning. Rooney made a perfect throw to second; but Allen dropped the ball, and Tommy, sliding, was safe.