Enough to make any young pitcher nervous; was it not? Yet Joe kept his nerves in check—no easy matter—and walked to the box with all the ease he could muster.
He fingered the ball for a moment, rubbed a little dirt on it—not that the spheroid needed it, but it gave him a chance to look at Gregory and catch his signal for a fast out. He nodded comprehendingly, having mastered the signals, and wound up for his first delivery.
“Ball one!” howled the umpire.
Joe was a little nettled. He was sure it had gone cleanly over the plate, curving out just as he intended it should, and yet it was called a ball. But he concealed his chagrin, and caught the horsehide which Gregory threw back to him—the catcher hesitating just the least bit, and with a look at the umpire which said much.
Again came the signal for a fast out.
Joe nodded.
Once more the young pitcher threw and this time, though the batter swung desperately at it, not having moved his stick before, there came from the umpire the welcome cry of:
“Strike—one!”
Joe was beginning to make good.
I shall not weary you with a full account of the game. I have other, and more interesting contests to tell of as we proceed. Sufficient to say that while Joe did not “set the river afire,” he did strike out three men that inning, after a two-bagger had been made. But Joe “tightened up,” just in time to prevent a run coming in, and the score was still a tie when the last man was out.