“He makes me sore!” muttered Hodge. “I always did hate the sound of his tongue.”
O’Neill pitched again. This time the ball looked altogether too high, but it dropped past Ready’s shoulders.
Jack did not strike at it, but the umpire promptly declared him out.
The wizard pitcher of the Outcasts had struck Ready out with three pitched balls, and Merriwell’s man had not tried to hit one of them.
CHAPTER XVI.
CLEVER PITCHING.
“Oh, me! oh, my!” cried Wiley. “How could you be so careless, Jack? I fear your reputation will sink into ignominy. At least, you could have shut your eyes and fanned once. You did not even agitate the atmosphere with your wand.”
“You seem to be agitating it altogether too much with your tongue,” flung back Ready, as he retired disconsolately to the bench.
Morgan stepped out to take his place.