“Yes, you are,” sneered Mallinson, unbelievingly, while even Mylert, the Giant catcher, looked bewildered.
“Honest Injun,” declared Joe. “This first one is going to be a high fast one right over the plate and just below the shoulder.”
“G’wan and stop your kidding,” growled the burly Philadelphia batter.
He set himself for a curve, not believing for a moment that Joe would be crazy enough to tell him in advance what he was going to pitch. It was just on that disbelief that Joe had counted.
Joe wound up and hurled one over exactly as he had promised. Mallinson, all set for a curve, was so flustered that he struck at it hurriedly and missed.
Joe grinned tantalizingly, while Mallinson glowered at him.
“Didn’t believe me, did you?” Joe asked. “Why don’t you have more faith in your fellow men? I ought to be real peeved at you for your lack of confidence. But I’m of a forgiving nature and I’ll overlook it this time.”
“Cut it out,” snapped Mallinson savagely. “Go ahead and play the game.”
“No pleasing some fellows,” mourned Joe plaintively. “Now this time, I’m going to pitch an outcurve. Ready? Let’s go.”