“Bring on the next victim!” taunted some of the spectators. “All pitchers look alike to us to-day. Next dead one to the front.”
McRae held a brief consultation with Robbie, and then nodded to Jim.
“Go to it, Jim,” encouraged Joe. “I’m rooting for you, old man. Pull some of the feathers out of those birds. It’s a tough job bucking against a four run lead, but you’re the boy to do it.”
“I’ll do my best,” answered Jim, as he put on his glove and went into the box.
It was the cue for the crowd to try to rattle him. The coachers began chattering like a lot of magpies, and the man on second began to dance about the bag and shout to Garrity, the next batsman, to bring him in.
Jim sent one over the plate that cut it in half, but the batsman had orders to wait him out, under the supposition that he would be wild. So he let the second one go by also.
“Strike two!” called the umpire.
Garrity braced. This was getting serious. This time Jim resorted to a fadeaway that Garrity swung at with all his might. But the ball eluded him and dropped into Mylert’s mitt.
“You’re out!” snapped the umpire, waving him away from the plate.