“And to think that I ever doubted her for a minute!” Jim berated himself. “Joe, I’m the meanest hound dog that ever lived. I’m not fit for such a girl. Why, Joe, she’s——”
“Yes, I know,” interrupted the grinning Joe. “Write me a letter and describe her perfections in that. But honestly, Jim, I’m as happy as you are.”
“You can’t be!” declared Jim. “It isn’t possible for any one to be as happy as I am.”
“Well, only a little less happy,” corrected Joe. “And there’s some one else that will be just as happy as I am. Mabel will be in the seventh heaven. She’s worried herself sick.”
“Too bad.”
“Feel fit to pitch now?” asked Joe, after a while.
“Fit?” cried Jim. “That’s no word for it. Bring on your teams. They’ll all look alike to me.”
And Jim proved in the games that followed that this was no idle boast. He was superb, the old invincible Jim, toying with his opponents and turning in victory after victory. McRae rubbed his eyes and Robbie chortled in glee.
“Sure, Mac, ’twas the best thing you ever did, letting Jim off to see that girl of his,” said Robbie. “’Tis a new man he is since he came back.”
The Giants were now like a team of runaway horses. They could not be stopped. With their pitching staff going at top speed, the team played behind them like men possessed. At home or on the road made no difference. The Giants were simply bent on having that pennant, and they strode over everything in their way.