“I’ll keep. I regularly play short, but I can pitch a little. If I could only curve a baseball the way I can a tennis ball I’d fool the batter every time. What does Moulton say about your work?”
“He doesn’t say much.”
“Oh, well, I understand he’s a quiet fellow anyway.”
“He is.”
“Has he found much fault with your work?”
“No. He doesn’t say much about it, as I told you.”
“Probably he thinks you are doing all right or he would say so,” said Walter, a little condescending in his manner. “You go ahead and try it to-morrow and if you fall down I’ll see what I can do.”
It was late when the boys arrived at the place they were seeking and their coming was announced by Walter’s shouts. When his grandfather came out of the house to greet the young fishermen the huge pickerel was displayed and the quiet comments of his grandfather were highly pleasing to the elated Walter. As he turned to say good night to his companion he again referred to the game of the morrow. “Don’t you be anxious, Dan. You start in with your pitching and just remember that if the Benson nine finds your curves you can rely on me to help you out.”
“That’s all right, Walter,” replied Dan quietly.
“The game is at three?”