“There has been a sudden addition to the bone crop,” concluded the vexed manager of the Wind Jammers. “Beamy, in order to avoid getting your dates mixed, you should carry a telescope and take an occasional survey of the earth’s surface.”
“Niver mind, cap’n,” called O’Reilley. “I’ll put ye across whin I hit.”
With a twinge of apprehension, Locke sought to trick the confident Irishman into biting at a curve. And, even as he pitched, he was annoyed with himself because apprehension prevented him from bending the ball over. O’Reilley stubbornly declined to bite.
There was a sudden chorus of warning shouts as Sommers returned the ball, and the pitcher was surprised to see Cap’n Wiley running for the registry station. The foxy old veteran was actually trying to steal home on the Big League pitcher. Laughing, Lefty waited for the ball, aware that Sommers was leaping into position to nail the runner. Without undue haste, yet without wasting a second, the slabman snapped the sphere back to the eager hands of the catcher, who poked it into the sliding man’s ribs. Wiley was out by four feet, at least.
“Why didn’t you wait for O’Reilley to hit?” Locke asked.
“I wanted to spare your already tattered nerves,” was the instant answer. “You see, sympathy may be found elsewhere than in the dictionary.”
Still floundering in the bog of doubt, Lefty was far from satisfied. He had told himself that he invited the test which would give him the answer he sought, yet he realized that, face to face with it, he had felt a shrinking, a qualm, akin to actual dread; and he was angry with himself because he drew a breath of relief when the blundering and reckless playing of the Wind Jammers postponed the ordeal, leaving him still groping in the dark.
Sommers led off with a hot grounder, which O’Reilley booted. Playing the game, Locke bunted, advancing Sommers and perishing himself at first.
“Cleverly done,” admitted Cap’n Wiley, “but it will avail you naught. I shall now proceed to decorate the pill with the oil of elusion.”
A friend called to Lefty in the crowd back of first, and the pitcher walked back to exchange a few words with him. He was turning away when a hand fell on his arm, and he looked round to find Weegman there. The man’s face wore a supercilious and knowing smile.