When Trueman’s eyes rested on this person the latter nodded and winked, then rose, sprang over the rail, and slouched awkwardly toward the bench of the visiting players.
“Gol-darn hard luck!” he said. “Can’t that feller pitch enny more?”
“Not this game.”
“Shucks! He’s a purty good man, cap’n. Who be you goin’ to put in his place?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t a pitcher left.”
“Is that so? Why, ding it! this is my chance! I’ll go in fer ye.”
“You?”
“Yep. Jest you give me a try. I’ve bin wantin’ to pitch in fast comp’ny fer a long time. I’ll jest nacherly s’prise them other chaps.”
“Did you ever pitch anywhere?”
“Did I? Cap’n, I pitched on the Mud Creek team a hull season an’ never lost a game.”