Mr. Hall sighed. “Here’s where it goes glimmering,” he murmured.
“Looks that way,” replied Mr. Talbot. “Bases full and none out. It’s up to Tom to show some of the real stuff now.”
“If he’s got enough of it to keep one or two of those chaps from scoring, I’ll take my hat off to him,” was the reply.
“Well, you can’t tell. The weak hitters are coming up and there’s always a good chance for a double when the bags are filled. Wouldn’t care to step in there and try your hand, would you?”
But Mr. Hall shook his head most decidedly. “No, sir! I’m scared as it is! I’d never find the plate until the bases were cleared!”
The Lynton coachers were shrieking themselves hoarse and the runners were jumping and shouting with wild enthusiasm as Sam and Tom met halfway between plate and mound. Sam, ball in hand and an eye on third base, talked a moment, and Tom, a speculative gaze set on Mr. Hall, nodded. Then Sam handed the ball to him and walked cheerfully back to the plate, pulling his mask on, and Tom, hitching his trousers, motioned the fielders in.
[CHAPTER XXIII]
A THROW TO SECOND
If there is any situation in a ball game which calls for coolness and steadiness it is that in which the pitcher finds himself surrounded on three sides by base-runners and on the fourth by an adversary whose one desire in life is to hit the ball safely. And when that pitcher knows, besides, that before the fracas is over he or his mates must dispose of three of the enemy, that situation is greatly complicated. It’s a time when pitcher and catcher must work together perfectly and when the infield must back them up as never before. A time, too, when the slightest miscue proves fatal.