[CHAPTER XVII]
STEALING HOME
With Burkett, Barrett and Joe at the bat for the Giants in their half of the ninth inning, it looked as though the nine might have a chance to score.
But Miles had turned those same batters back earlier in the game, and he nerved himself to repeat.
“Murderer, are you?” he sneered, as the burly Burkett came to the bat, and referring to a nickname gained because of the many balls “killed.” “Well, see me send you to the electric chair.”
“Aw, pitch with your arm instead of your mouth,” retorted Burkett. “You’re due to blow up anyway. You’re only a toy balloon, and I’m going to stick a pin in you.”
But Miles had the last laugh, for he fanned Burkett with three successive strikes, and the latter went sheepishly back to the bench.
“That pin must have lost its point,” Miles called after him. “I knew you were bluffing all the time.”
Larry came up to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away two of them and faced the pitcher.
“Why don’t you throw that one away too?” queried Miles. “You might as well, for all the good it’s going to do you.”