Collin walked to the mound with a rather bored air of superiority. There was a little whispered conference between him and the catcher-manager, and the second half of the first inning began.
Collin did well, and though hit twice for singles, not a run came in, and the home team was credited with a zero on the score-board.
“Oh, I guess we can play some!” cried one of the professionals.
“What are you crowing over?” demanded Jimmie Mack. “If we win this I suppose you fellows will want medals! Why this is nothing but a kid bunch we’re up against.”
“Don’t let ’em fool you, though,” advised the manager, who overheard the talk.
And then, to the surprise and dismay of all, the home team proceeded to “do things” to the professionals. They began making runs, and succeeded in stopping the winning streak of the Pittstons.
The detailed play would not interest you, and, for that matter it was a thing the Pittstons did not like to recall afterward. There was a bad slump, and when the seventh inning arrived Gregory called:
“Matson, you bat for Collin.”
Joe felt the blood rush to his face.