Dan meanwhile was keenly watching the player who now advanced to the plate. A sturdy, solid, muscular fellow he appeared to be, and the call for a “home run,” which was raised by several among the friends of the academy nine, at once revealed to the young pitcher that he was facing one of the heaviest hitters of the opposing nine. He hesitated a moment, waited for Ned to repeat his signal for a swift low incurve, and then pitched the ball.
“Strike!” shouted the umpire.
“Strike two!” he called again when a swiftly pitched ball seemed suddenly to swerve from its course as it came near the plate and almost threaten the face of the batter.
Drawing back his arm and “winding up” his body as if he was striving to exert every ounce of power he possessed, Dan delivered the third ball. Instead of being a swift ball, however, it was slow, and its curve, as it crossed the plate, apparently was outward. The excited batter, however, in his zeal, struck viciously at what he confidently believed was to be an unusually swift ball and swung his bat before the little sphere had even reached the plate.
“You’re out!” called the umpire.
Disregarding the cheers of the spectators, the luckless batter waited for Dan to come in and then said to him good-naturedly, “You got me that time.”
“I was lucky,” responded Dan pleasantly.
“I wish I believed it was just ‘luck.’ Next time I’m up, I’ll know a little more about it.”
It was now that the Tait School nine was to show what it was able to do with the bat. Various reports had come as to the quality and ability of the battery of the academy nine, but, like Dan, the young pitcher was a new boy, consequently no one was able to speak authoritatively. He assuredly was the one player whose actions were most keenly observed when the academy players took their first turn in the field. The pitcher was tall, wiry, and handled himself well in the preliminary practice.
“South-paw,” muttered Ned as he watched Ingersoll, the pitcher of the academy nine.