This time he started it with an in, and it changed to an out, just as the batter leaped back to get out of the way.
Over the outside corner of the plate passed the ball.
“Two strikes!” cried the umpire.
The batter was dazed.
“I’d give a hundred dollars to know what kind of twists he is getting onto that thing!” he muttered. “Never saw anything like that before.”
After that he felt that he could not tell where the ball was coming. The next one started with an outcurve, but the batter feared it might twist in somehow, for all that such a thing seemed utterly impossible, so he fanned the empty air trying to hit it, and was out.
Frank had pitched three balls and struck the man out.
“Now, fellows,” said Frank, as his men gathered around him near the bench, “if you will keep cool and think you can hit Finch, you will hit him all right before you quit. I am going to try to hold them down hard. If we can make some scores in any possible way, we stand a fair shot at this game yet.”
“That’s rot!” said Hal Faunce. “We do not stand a ghost of a show. I can’t hit Finch, and I don’t believe the rest of you can.”
Without showing the least excitement, but speaking very coldly, Merry said: