The sight of Weston glaring at him helped, in a measure, to restore Joe to himself.
“He’s hoping I won’t make good,” thought Joe. “But I will! I must!”
It may have been because of Joe’s natural nervousness, or because the scrub team was determined to show that they could bat even their own pitcher, that was the cause of so many runs coming in during the first inning. No one could rightly say, but the fact remained that the runs did come in, and it began to look bad for the ’varsity.
“I told you how it would be—putting in a green pitcher,” complained Mr. Benson.
“Perhaps,” admitted the head coach. “But wait a bit. Joe isn’t as green as he looks. Wait until next inning.”
And he was justified, for Joe got himself well in hand, and the ’varsity, as if driven to desperation by another defeat staring them in the face so near to the Amherst game, batted as they never had before. Avondale was all but knocked out of the box, and the scrub captain substituted another pitcher, who did much better. Joe’s former rival almost wept at his own inability.
Meanwhile our hero was himself again, and though he did give three men their bases on balls, he allowed very few hits, so that the ’varsity took the game by a good margin, considering their bad start.
“That’s the way to do it!” cried Captain Hatfield, when the contest was over.
“Do it to Amherst,” was the comment of the head coach.
“We will!” cried the members of the first team.