Mersfeld redeemed himself a few seconds later by striking out the next man up, and with two down, the last man knocked a little pop fly. It looked good but Pete got under it, and had it safely in his hands when the runner was ten feet from first.
“Well, now to see what we can do,” remarked Graydon as he came in from first with his men eager to get a chance at the sticks.
They did not do so much, for there was an excellent battery against them, and one run was all they could tally. But it tied the score, and gave the home rooters something to shout for.
Whether it was nervousness or whether his conscience troubled him was not made known, but Mersfeld seemed to get worse as the game progressed. His throws to the basemen were wild, and he practically lost control of the ball, while his curves broke too late, and the opposing team readily got on to them.
“Oh, we’ve got the pitcher’s ‘Angora’ all right!” chanted the visiting rooters, that being the classical term for “goat” or nerve.
“And I believe they have,” admitted the coach, when the fourth inning opened with the score eight to one in favor of Tuckerton. They had garnered two in the second frame, three in the third, and a brace in their half of the fourth. The one lone tally was all Westfield had when they came to bat in the ending of the fourth, and though they worked fiercely not a man got over the rubber.
“Smith and Smith is the new battery for the Westfield team!” announced the umpire as Graydon’s men went out to the field at the opening of the fifth. Mersfeld had not said a word when ordered from the box. He knew he had been doing poor work, but with a bitter feeling in his heart he watched to see how Bill would make out with, as he supposed, the changed glasses.
“Now watch the celebrated Smith brothers work!” cried a Tuckerton wag, as Cap and Bill took their places.
“Yes, and they will work, too!” murmured Pete.
“At least if we can’t get any more runs, I hope we can keep the score down,” thought the coach, to whom the game, thus far was a bitter disappointment. All his work so far that season seemed to have gone for naught.