The second hitter was a stocky young Irish lad by the name of O’Rouke.
“He’s easy,” asserted Ligner. “All you have to do is wait, and he will put a pretty one right over.”
Chester surveyed O’Rouke critically, his toe on the pitching plate. His pose was one of grace, and he knew it. He knew also that in the grand stand were several girls who were watching him anxiously. He had seen his sister, accompanied by Doris Templeton and Zona Desmond, enter the grand stand, and occasionally his eyes sought them.
“June,” said Zona, “I think your brother is just splendid! I think he is the handsomest fellow in the whole school!”
June smiled.
“I am glad you think so,” she said.
“I know lots of girls who think so,” declared Zona, flashing Doris a glance.
“I hope he wins this game to-day,” murmured June. “It will mean so much to him. It will give him courage and confidence.”
“Of course he will,” nodded Zona.
“Oh, it isn’t sure. It is going to be a hard game. Every one says Dick Merriwell acknowledged it would be a hard game.”