Mason was given a cheer as he came up, which seemed to rattle him, for he slashed at a very wild one on the very start.
“All over!” asserted Cowles. “He has done all he can do to-day. With a good man in his place there might be a show.”
Mason was pale as death. He knew all eyes were on him, and it was the desire of his soul to get a safe hit. Still, he knew he had made a fool of himself by striking at the other ball, and he let the next one pass.
“Two strikes,” announced the voice of the umpire.
A cold sweat broke out on Mason. In that moment he suffered untold tortures. He felt that he would give his very life for a good clean hit.
The next ball was an out curve, and Hock started to swing at it. Seeing it was going wide, he stopped, but he shuddered for fear the umpire would call it the third strike.
“One ball,” said the umpire.
The heart of the Southerner gave a great choking throb.
The next one was too close, and he did not offer at that.
“Two balls.”