“What’s wrong with me, Al?” he asked, anxiously.
“I don’t know, Phil; but something’s wrong. Look at that score—eight to two!—and only three more innings to play. You are usually our stand-by, old fellow; but, to-day you’re the only one of the nine who hasn’t been up to scratch, and fighting to win. I’ve been watching you, and you seem dazed, somehow. Have the Exeter fellows scared you?”
“No,” was the reply. The score, now noticed for the first time, positively startled him. Aroused from his dreams at last he begged Al to try him for another inning.
“Just one,” he pleaded. “Eric can’t pitch as well as I can, I’m sure, and if I don’t make good you can pull me out any time.”
Al hesitated, sighed, and then consented. He really despaired now of winning the game and was so fond of Phil that he hated to humiliate him.
But the conference had been noted by the discontented Riverdale audience and people began to shout: “Take him out!” “Put Daring on the shelf!” “Phil’s gone bad to-day!” and other similar remarks that made Phil straighten up and walk to his station with an air of resolve.
Groans and hoots greeted him, but he never wavered. The first batter to face him, one of the crack Exeter players, struck out, and the crowd ceased their jibes. The next man made a “pop-up” which Phil cleverly caught, and a gentle murmur of applause, mostly from the women, rewarded him. The third man also struck out, and then the crowd forgot its grievance against the young pitcher and gave a hearty cheer.
“Why didn’t he do that, before?” grumbled Judge Ferguson, who had been greatly annoyed at Phil’s poor showing.
“He hasn’t seemed himself, to-day,” replied Janet, with friendly generosity. “It occurred to me that he had heard bad news, or perhaps is not well. Really, papa, I’m not sure that Phil knew he was playing ball, till just now.”
The old lawyer nodded. He knew very well, now that Janet shrewdly called his attention to it, what had doubtless depressed his young friend, and occupied his mind.