The Bullies were urged to fall on Locke, and Bangs led off with a long drive to center, which Sockamore retrieved on the fly. Craddock did not seem to be strong with the club, and he made a laughable exhibition by seeking to hit the low ones on the inside corner, where Locke kept the ball for a strike-out. Harney got one to his fancy, through a momentary lapse on the part of Locke, but, by tall hustling out in the left garden, Reddy Crandall picked the globule out of the air.
“You’re hittin’ him now,” declared the encouraging Bancroft fan. “Keep it up; they can’t get ’em all. You’ll put the blanket on him yet.”
The delight of the visitors may be imagined as Craddock finished Kingsbridge’s list by handing the last three men upon it the same medicine he had given the first six. Three innings had passed, nine men had faced him, and not one of them had even hit the ball into the diamond. It began to seem that the man who had prophesied no hits and no runs for the Kinks might not be such a fool, after all.
Locke’s manner was almost trancelike as he toed the slab at the beginning of the fourth. His first ball was wide, but Trollop caught the second one on the seam and pounded it for two sacks, bringing the Bancroft rooters up, roaring. They continued to roar, as Grady bunted and sacrificed Trollop to third, where, with only one out, he was in position to score on the squeeze play if the Bullies saw fit to try it.
They did try it, but, knowing what was coming, Locke pitched to Mace high and close, and Mace bumped a little pop fly straight into Lefty’s hands. Holding the ball a moment, Locke smiled at Trollop, who made ludicrous efforts to stop and turn back toward third. The roaring of the Bancrofters died away in a disappointed groan as they saw the ball tossed to Fred Lace for the third put-out.
“Oh, this is something of a game!” crowed Stark, capering toward the bench. “It’s about time we came to life and touched that gangling port-sider up a few. Stop watching his contortions, Labelle. This is no vaudeville performance; you’re here to play baseball. Try to hit him, anyhow.”
“You bet!” growled the Canadian. “I hit de ball dis time; you watch.”
Nevertheless, although he slashed viciously, he did not graze the first one.
Suddenly Reddy Crandall, who had spent his time on the bench staring at the long-geared pitcher, struck his thigh a resounding slap.