“What are you trying to pull off here?” cried the manager of the Wind Jammers. “Such behavior is most inconsiderate, or words to that effect. However it simply makes it necessary for me to inject a few more kinks into the horsehide.”
Admittedly he did hand up some peculiar curves to Watson, but his control was so poor that none of the twisters came over and like Hallett, the left fielder walked. This peopled the corners.
“Here,” said Wiley, still chipper and undisturbed, “is that jolly soul who obligingly batted an easy one into my fin the last time. I passed the last hitter in order to get at this kind party again.”
Tremain let one pitch go by, but the next one pleased him, and he cracked the ball on the nose. It was a two-base drive, which enabled the runners already on to score. As the three raced over the plate, one after another, Wiley was seen violently wigwagging toward the bench. In response to his signal, Mysterious Jones rose promptly and prepared to warm up with the second catcher.
“I’m off to-day; perhaps I should say I’m awful,” admitted the Marine Marvel. “A spazoozum like that is sufficient to open my eyes to the humiliating fact that I’m not pitching up to class. In a few minutes, however, you’ll have an opportunity to see Mr. Jones uncork some of the real stuff.”
Wiley dallied with the next batter for the purpose of giving the dummy pitcher time to shake the kinks out of his arm. Apparently Jones did not need much time in which to get ready, for when the sailor presently dealt out another pass the relief twirler signified his willingness to assume the burden.
As Jones walked out upon the diamond, Locke looked around vainly for Weegman. It was possible, of course, that Collier’s private secretary had departed at once following his last rebuff, but somehow Lefty felt that he was still lingering and taking pains not to be seen by Mysterious Jones. Suddenly the southpaw felt a desire to bring the two men face to face, wondering what would happen. There was more than a possibility that such a meeting might present some dramatic features.
Turning back, Lefty’s eyes followed Jones. The interest and fascination he had felt at first sight of the man returned, taking hold upon him powerfully and intensely. There was something in the solemn face of the mute that spoke of shattered hopes, deep and abiding sorrow, despair, tragedy. He was like one who stood aloof even while he mingled with mankind. Knowing other mutes, many of whom seemed happy and contented, Locke could not believe that the peculiarities of Mysterious Jones were wholly due to resentment against the affliction which fate had placed upon him. Behind it all there must lay a story with perhaps more than one dark page.