“You’re doing all right, boy!” cried Gregory. “I think we’re going to win!”
But it was not to be as easy as saying it. The Newkirk men fought hard, and to the last inch. They had an excellent pitcher—a veteran—who was well backed up with a fielding force, and every run the Pittstons got they fully earned.
Joe warmed up to his work, and to the howling delight of the crowd struck out two men in succession, after one had gone out on a pop fly, while there were two on bases. That was a test of nerve, for something might have broken loose at any moment.
But Joe held himself well in hand, and watched his batters. He so varied his delivery that he puzzled them, and working in unison with Nelson very little got past them.
Then came a little spurt on the part of Newkirk, and they “sweetened” their score until there was a tie. It was in the ninth inning, necessitating another to decide the matter.
“If we can get one run we’ll have a chance to win,” declared Gregory. “That is, if you can hold them in the last half of the tenth, Joe.”
“I’ll do my best!”
“I know you will, my boy!”
For a time it looked as though it could not be done. Two of the Pittston players went down in rapid succession before the magnificent throwing of the Newkirk pitcher. Then he made a fatal mistake. He “fed” a slow ball to John Holme, the big third baseman, who met it squarely with his stick, and when the shouting was over John was safely on the third sack.