“I think we win!” he repeated softly. “And I—I must do a good job, the Chief said. Well, in just a few hours I’ll have my chance!”
CHAPTER XI
THE CAPTAIN
It was the end of the fourth inning, and Camp Shawnee had players on second and third with two out. The eager boys were on their toes, taking long leads and praying that Widelle, at bat, would bring them in with one of his famous sky-high clouts.
Lefty wound up and delivered a whistling curve that landed in Gil Shelton’s mitt with a satisfying smack.
“Strike two!” called Judge Kinney of Elmville, umpire for the day. The boys of Camp Lenape, grouped along the sidelines of the Shawnee diamond, raised a cheer of praise for their pitcher’s prowess.
Widelle, who wore on his jersey the red arrow-head insignia of Lenape’s rival camp, shifted his bat slightly and set himself, ready for what might prove the final toss of the inning.
“You got him measured for a homer!” Captain Hook Bollard was encouraging his team-mate with loud yells. “Take it on the nose!” He, as well as the two hundred other spectators, invader and defender alike, held his breath as Lefty uncorked a fast one. More than one person in the stands didn’t see that ball coming. But Widelle saw it; moreover, he connected.
“Zowie!” shrieked Bollard. “Go it, Widdy! A love-ly skyscraper!”
It was a perfect hit; a bit too lofty for security, but nevertheless pretty. Two hundred pairs of eyes watched the horsehide sphere climb over left field, then drop with increasing speed toward the earth. Widelle was nearing first, and already had his eye on second. The man on third was trotting confidently toward the home plate. But no one saw them. Lenape and Shawnee eyes were fastened on that descending ball; and now they were aware of a lithe figure in a tailored baseball suit, streaking backwards with head tilted to avoid the afternoon sun. Back, back the figure raced; a sudden daring leap, a slap as leather hit leather.
“He dropped it!” howled Bollard. The Lenape ranks groaned as the fielder fell sprawling; but the groan changed to unbelieving cries as they saw that one arm was still raised aloft, and a hand still clutched the fatal sphere! The fielder was on his feet again, slamming a long, easy toss to Brick Ryan at first. Brick touched the bag, and the Lenape team trooped in to take their turn at bat.