Locke frowned. What success, or lack of it, Wiley had had as a pitcher was a matter of no moment; but the statement that amateur teams of no particular standing had found Mysterious Jones an easy mark was disturbing. Was it possible that he had been led, with undue haste, to fritter away good money for a pitcher who would prove worthless in the Big League? True, the mute had seemed to show something in the Fernandon game, but in similar contests Lefty had seen many a pinheaded, worthless country pitcher give a fine imitation of Walter Johnson in top-notch form. The test of the bush was, in reality, no test at all.
Throughout five innings the southpaw succeeded in restraining Wiley, and during that portion of the game the Viennas found Jones for nine singles and two doubles, accumulating four runs. Only for bad judgment on the paths they might have secured twice as many tallies. In the same period the local pitcher, using a little dinky slow curve, held the visitors to one score. The mute seemed to be trying hard enough, but he could not keep his opponents from hitting.
With the opening of the sixth, Wiley broke the leash of restraint. “I’ve got to get out and get under,” he declared. “You can’t expect me to sit still and watch my barkentine go upon the rocks. Here’s where we start something. Get into ’em, Schepps! Begin doing things! We’ll back you up, for in onion there is strength.”
Schepps led off with a hit, and immediately the Wind Jammers, encouraged by Wiley, leaped out from the bench, dancing wildly and tossing the bats into the air. Locke smiled as he watched them. He had seen Big League teams do the same thing in an effort to drive away the jinx and break a streak of bad luck. But although Lefty smiled, he was not wholly happy.
“If Jones is a quince,” he thought, “I’ve wasted my time trying to brace up our pitching staff. Even Mit Skullen will have the laugh on me.”
His anxiety had led him to come straight from New York to Vienna, without stopping at Fernandon. He had sent a message to Janet telling her that he would be home the following day.
The Wind Jammers kept after the local twirler, and succeeded in pounding two men round to the registry station. Then Wiley did some wigwagging to Jones, and the gloomy mute nodded assurance. After which he walked out and fanned three batters in a row.
“You see, Lefty!” exulted the Marine Marvel. “That’s what he needs. Give him proper encouragement, and he’s there with the damsons.”
“Temperamental or yellow, which?” speculated the southpaw. “Either sort of a pitcher is worthless in pinches.”
The visitors failed to continue their hitting streak in the seventh. Whether or not Jones was disheartened by this, he let down in the last half of the inning, and Vienna added another score, Wiley’s warnings having no impression upon them. Nor did the mute show any remarkable form in the remainder of the game, which terminated with the score six to four in favor of the locals.