He tried an outshoot, and was chagrined when it missed the pan by a good foot and Burgess had to stir himself to get it.
“Wild, Morrie—wild,” the stout fellow said, as he tossed the ball back.
Morrison bit his lips. The next ball was high. It held no speed, but it passed so far above Dean’s head that Burgess was forced to stretch his arms at full length in order to pull it down.
He shook his head as he snapped it back.
Then the pitcher sent a speedy one straight over the pan, and Dean cracked out a clean single toward right field.
Gardiner appeared in time to see this performance, and, though he said nothing, his face wore an anxious frown.
“I think I’ll get out where I can see his delivery better,” Dick said, as the captain approached.
“I wish you would,” Gardiner returned in a low voice. “He’s pretty wild, isn’t he?”
Merriwell nodded and walked out on the diamond, taking a position behind Morrison, who had just received the ball from the field.
“Now, Reddy, get up to the plate and see what you can do,” Gardiner directed. “See if you can’t strike him out, Morrie.”