“They can’t all hit,” retorted Zona’s cousin. “But you watch Dustan! He never strikes out!”
“Oh, doesn’t he?”
“No, indeed!”
“Perhaps he will this time.”
“It will be the first time this year, if he does.”
Dustan was watching for Merriwell’s jump ball, against which all Fairport players had been warned, and for which they had practiced batting against a professional pitcher who could throw a quick rise.
Something led Dustan to fancy Merriwell had thrown the jump at the very start, for the first ball came speeding in almost shoulder high.
The batter made an instantaneous calculation and struck above the course of the ball.
To his surprise, he swung over it by at least eight inches.
“Hang it!” he whispered to himself. “That was a straight one! If I had known, I might have knocked the cover off!”