McRae gathered the Giants about him as they came in from the field.
“Now you fellows listen to me,” he commanded. “You’ve got to cop this game. No excuses. You’ve got to. Show these bean-eaters where they get off. Make them look like thirty cents. Knock the cover off the ball. Go in and win!”
[CHAPTER VII]
STEALING HOME
Willis was first to the bat, and he strode to the plate with blood in his eye. He was still smarting from the sharp words of the manager and was anxious for a chance to redeem himself. A hit would help to wipe out the memory of his error.
The first ball was an outshoot that just cut the corner of the plate. Willis struck at it and missed. The next one was a straight ball about knee high. Willis gave it a resounding clout, and it soared out toward the flagpole in left field.
Willis was off with the crack of the bat, footing it down to first, while a roar went up from the stands. It looked like a sure home run, and it was clear that the Boston left fielder could not get under it. The runner was well on his way to second before the ball touched the ground.
“Foul ball!” called the umpire.
There was a groan from the Giant rooters, and Robbie rushed from the dugout to protest. The umpire coldly waved him off.