“Strike two!” said the umpire.
The batsman could not dispute that. He only growled and glared ferociously at Tom. The latter could afford to waste one and so he answered Sam’s signal with an in-shoot that was refused and went as a ball. It was two and two now. The stands were almost silent as Tom wound up for his next delivery. Very deliberately he went at it and when, finally, his hand shot forward it hardly seemed that there could be any “steam” on the ball. And yet I doubt if few persons saw it after it left Tom’s hand. Certainly the batsman didn’t. One could discern his brief instant of indecision before he swung his bat around with every ounce of strength behind it. He spun on his heel, staggered, and recovered as the umpire cried:
“Striker’s out!”
Amesville burst into joyful acclaim and on the bench Mr. George, with a pleased smile and a satisfied sigh, leaned back again.
“Two gone!” cried Frank Warner cheerfully. “Last man, fellows!”
The next batsman, who was Petersburg’s left fielder, showed none of the nervous impatience of the previous player. He stood square to the plate, crowded a little, and looked at Tom steadily as he poised his bat. Sam Craig, as he squatted to give his signal, glanced down the base-line toward where the runner on third was pawing the earth a few feet from the bag, ready on the instant to race for the plate. Tom’s glance followed Sam’s for an instant as he wrapped his fingers about the ball. That runner on third was disquieting. Even, though, Tom comforted himself, if he did steal home the score would still be 3 to 2. It would be best to give all his attention to the batsman and not allow that dancing, shouting figure over there to take his mind from the real task, which was to strike out the man at the plate.
A ball was called and then a strike, Tom risking a “knuckler” with good results. Then there was a brief instant of panic when the next delivery went wild and bounded into the earth at the right of the plate. But Sam dropped in front of it and saved a run then and there. There was a warning note in his voice as he sped the ball back.
“Take your time, Tom! Now, right over with it!”
Tom frowned as the ball slapped back into his glove. He had allowed that fellow on third to take his mind from the ball at the moment of delivery. He must stop that or something would happen. Very resolutely then he strove to close his ears to the “Hi! hi! hi!” of the coacher’s voice and his eyes to the figure that leaped back and forth along the base-line there. And he succeeded, for his next ball broke sharply out and down and the bat passed over it with a vicious swish and the umpire announced “Strike two!”