But when the pitcher tried to use them, his curves were worse off than before, and with despair in his heart he laid aside the spectacles.
“I’ll have to wait for the others,” he said.
“But what about the game with Sandrim?” asked Captain Graydon. “Can you pitch for us?”
Bill shook his head, and said nothing. The captain and coach looked at each other.
“We’ll have to put Mersfeld back in the box,” decided Mr. Windam dubiously.
“Yes, and he’ll have to practice hard every spare minute, and even then—” The captain did not finish, but they knew what he meant.
It was with wild and ill-concealed exultation in his heart that Mersfeld received orders to take his old place.
“Now it’s up to you to make good!” said North to him.
“And I’ll do it, too!” was the fierce response. “Bill Smith shan’t get his hands on the ball again.”
Mersfeld began hard and steady practice, and, whether it was that the rest had done him good, or whether he had improved did not develop, but there was a more hopeful look on the faces of the captain and coach.