“Two strikes!” announced the umpire.
Then something happened. The next ball came in with the speed of the wind. Maloney thought it was a straight one, and he struck hard at it. Just as the batter swung it seemed that the ball took a strange upward jump in the air, and the third strike had been made.
“Batter is out!” said the umpire, as the ball plunked into the mitt of Bart Hodge and remained there.
“Hooraw!” bellowed the man with the hoarse voice. “Why, the little divvil can pitch, just as well as he can do anything else! Did you ever seen his match?”
“What do you think of that?” growled Hazen; “He has some speed.”
“And a mighty queer rise ball,” nodded Wescott.
“They’ll get on to him, don’t worry,” said Derring. “He is too young to pitch in this class. We are sure of winning, so your money is safe, Hazen.”
But Hazen was not perfectly easy.
Corrigan followed Maloney, and Dick started with the jump ball, at which the batter slashed hard.
“Throw that again,” invited Corrigan.