“This is the life,” chanted Larry Barrett.
“Nothing to do till to-morrow,” chimed in Denton. “And not much even then.”
“Don’t you boys go patting yourselves on the back,” smiled Robbie, looking more like a cherub than ever, as he stopped beside their seats on his way along the aisle. “These games, remember, are to be the real thing—there’s going to be no 79 sloppy or careless work just because you’re not playing for the championship. They’re going to be fights from the time the gong rings till the last man is out in the ninth inning.”
If Robbie wanted action, he got it, and the first games had a snap and vim about them that augured well for the success of the trip. It is true that the players had not the stimulus that comes from a fight for the pennant, but other motives were not lacking.
There was one game which was a nip-and-tuck affair from start to finish. At the end of the fourth inning the score stood 1 to 1, and at the end of the sixth inning the score had advanced so that it stood 2 to 2.
“Say, we don’t seem to be getting anywhere in this game,” remarked Jim to Joe.
“Oh, well, we’ve got three more innings to play,” was the answer.
In the seventh inning a most remarkable happening occurred. The All-Americans had three men on bases with nobody out. It looked as if they might score, but Joe took a sudden brace and pitched the next man at the bat out in one-two-three order.
The next man up knocked a pop fly, which Joe gathered in with ease.
“That’s the way to do it, Joe!” sang out one of his companions. “Now go for the third man!” 80