“But I hain’t goin’ to do it,” persisted the jay. “If your fellers will s’port me the way they have your other pitcher, I won’t let them other chaps git a darn run!”
Trueman shook his head.
“The crowd would guy us,” he said.
“Let ’em guy an’ be hanged to ’em!” exclaimed the countryman. “Mebbe we’ll be able to take some of the guyin’ aout of ’em before we’re done. Look here, some of your fellers batted when I was tossin’ em’ up before the game. Ask them if I ain’t got some curves?”
“Curves don’t cut much ice if a man hasn’t a head and experience.”
“I’ll jest bet you a chaw of terbacker that you’ll say my head’s all right before I’ve pitched long. You don’t want to use up any of your other men pitchin’, so let me see what I can do. Come on, boss; you won’t be sorry.”
“All right,” said Trueman suddenly; “I’ll do it.”