“I have. Well, let’s see what happens.”
Billy, Chester, and Lange went down in regular order to the smiling Green, although Lange managed to send up a pop fly that was gathered in by Murray. The sixth started with the heavy end up, and Ironton came out confidently.
Frank tried to avoid using the double shoot, with the result that Ironton poled a hot liner toward third. Lowe made a beautiful stop that drew an admiring yell from the bleachers, but dropped the ball, and Ironton beat it out.
The next man up was Murray, and Chip handled him carefully, forcing him to put up an infield fly, that Villum easily absorbed. Then Green strode out, smiling.
Chip gathered every energy. He put over the double shoot, reversing from an in to an out, and Green fanned. Then, using his left hand, he reversed the shoot, and once more Green struck in vain, Ironton going down to second. Knowing that it was useless to attempt luring Green, Frank once more threw every effort into a terrifically swift, straight ball—and again Green fanned.
The speed of that ball was too much for Billy, however. It went through him and rolled back to the grand stand, while Green tore to first and Ironton to third. Both were safe, and Smith advanced to the plate. Frank signaled to Billy to come up.
“It’s no use, old man,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Chip,” and Billy was almost in tears. “They can’t touch you, and if you only had a decent catcher——”
“None of that,” said Merry. “You’re all right, Billy. But I daren’t use the double shoot again. I’ve pitched nothing else, and I can’t give away the jump ball just yet. I’m going to try the spit ball, so watch out for bad ones.”
The almost constant use of the double shoot had been a tremendous strain on Frank’s arm, and Billy was forced to assent. Merry did not half like using the spit ball, as he had not practiced it for some time, but the need was imperative.