Axander wound up and put one over the corner of the plate with all the force he could muster. Joe caught it near the end of his bat and sent it soaring out toward rightfield. It was a mighty clout, but when it came down it was just about six inches on the wrong side of the foul line.
Joe, who was well on his way to second, came back and again took up his position at the bat.
But that tremendous hit had given Axander food for thought. The next ball that came over was so wide of the plate that the catcher had to jump for it.
Another ball followed in the same place, and the stands began to murmur.
“He’s afraid to let him hit it!”
“He’s going to walk him!”
“Matson’s got his goat!”
But Axander had resolved to play safe, and the next ball was so wide that it was plain he was doing it with deliberate design.
“Thought you were a giant killer,” jeered Joe. “Have you lost your nerve? I can see from here you’re trembling.”
Stung by the taunt, Axander put all the stuff he had on the ball and sent in a swift incurve.