“Trot out your stock and let me look it over,” he said, with a grin. “That is,” he added, “if you’re able to get the ball up to the plate.”
The next instant the ball fairly whistled past him as it cut the plate. Platz was so startled at the swift response to his gibe that he did not even offer at it.
“Strike one!” cried the umpire.
“Did it get up there?” asked Joe mockingly as the ball was returned to him.
“It won’t get past me again,” retorted Platz.
He set himself for another fast one, but this time the ball just drifted up, looking as big as a balloon when it left Joe’s hand but as small as a pea as it neared the plate. Platz nearly broke his back reaching for it.
“Hope you didn’t strain yourself,” said Joe solicitously.
Platz flushed and took a firmer foothold. This time the ball sped in a line until it was within three feet of the rubber. Then it took a sudden hop and Platz struck four inches under it.
“You’re out!” barked the umpire.
“Yes,” laughed Joe, “we have no base hits to-day.”