“That’ll be my finish then,” said Hodge gloomily. “I can’t hit a left-hander. It’s like striking at the moon.”
“Don’t give up before you begin,” said Ned sharply.
“Oh, I’m not a dead one yet,” retorted Hodge, as he selected his bat and advanced, as the first batter, to face Ingersoll.
A hush fell over the entire assembly as the motions of the lanky pitcher were keenly watched by all observers. A laugh was heard as Ingersoll twisted his long arms and body almost as if he were trying to tie it into a knot. Suddenly from the squirming arms the ball shot forth and Hodge struck wildly at it, though he did not come within six inches of the little sphere.
“Strike!” shouted the umpire promptly.
“That fellow is going to wear himself out before the sixth inning if he keeps that up,” said Ned to Dan as they were seated side by side on the players’ bench. “He can’t keep that up.”
Dan, after his usual quiet manner, did not reply, though he was keenly observant of his rival in the box as was his friend.
Another strike, then two balls, quickly followed Hodge’s first attempt, and then the batter struck savagely at the ball that followed and sent it slowly rolling toward third base. The baseman easily stopped the ball, threw it to first, and Hodge was out.
“Next victim,” muttered Ned as he stepped forward to the plate. Ned, however, was more fortunate than his predecessor, for after one strike and two balls had been called he lifted the little sphere for a safe hit over second base.
“Now, Gus, remember your country’s need,” said Smith, as Gus Kiggins’ turn to bat came and the young giant stepped forward. “Don’t forget that you’re to make a sacrifice hit.”