Then Merry directed Dick to give Bruce some good straight ones, instructing the big fellow to swing to meet the ball, and not to “kill it.”
“It’s the first duty of every batter to get his eye on the ball,” said Frank. “If he stands up and slashes away with all his strength, he seldom succeeds in this. Slashing is what spoils many good men who might become skilful batters.”
Browning had a reputation as a “home-run hitter,” and no home-run hitter is ever a sure hitter. It’s the man who meets the ball cleverly and places it for singles who is the most valuable. Of course, there are times when home-run hitting counts, and it always enthuses the spectators; but the man who tries for nothing save long hits does not obtain the best results.
Coached by Frank, Browning met the ball handsomely several times, and then was sent out to his base, Ready being called in.
“I suppose I’m the only real thing that never fans,” chirped the apple-cheeked fellow.
Frank looked at Dick and nodded. Bart gave his signals, and Jack began to fan at once, missing the first two.
“Oh, Laura!” he exclaimed. “How did it happen? But I always do that to fool the pitcher. Then I put the next one over the fence.”
The next one, however, was a high in shoot, and he was completely deceived, as Browning had been.
“Look here, Richard, my son,” said Ready; “you’re altogether too flip! Is this the way you treat your trusting friends?”
The boy showed his teeth in a smile that was very attractive, illuminating his entire face. That face was a most expressive one, betraying his suddenly shifting emotions.