“Joe Matson, of course. It’s the only thing we can do. Take the field, fellows. Joe, take your place in the box!”
“Who—me?” gasped our hero, unable to believe the words.
“Yes, you,” and Darrell smiled. “Do your prettiest now. You’re going in at the beginning instead of at the end. It’s different from what I planned, but I guess I can depend on you. Hold ’em down!”
“I will!” cried Joe fiercely and he forgot his injured arm.
“Play ball!” ordered the umpire and Joe took his place as pitcher for the Silver Stars for the first time. No wonder his heart beat faster than usual. The Stars were to bat last, Rankin having won the toss. It must be remembered that these boys were amateur players and did not always follow league rules of having the home team up last.
The usual number of practice balls were allowed between Joe and the catcher at the plate and Bart noted with satisfaction that Joe was cool and steady and that he did not try for speed.
Then the first man for the Academy—their best hitter—faced our hero. Bart gave the signal for a slow straight ball over the plate at an angle. It was the beginning of a cross-fire which he and Joe had quickly agreed upon, and, as is well known, the ability of a pitcher to deliver a good cross-fire wins many games. Cross-firing is merely sending the ball first over one side of the plate then the other and then right over centre. Joe had done it in practice. Could he do it in the game?
“Strike one!” called the umpire, when the first ball found lodgment in Bart’s big glove. There was a little gasp of protest from the Academy crowd, but they said nothing. Their man had not struck at the ball, but it had been in the right place and Joe knew he had a fair umpire with whom to deal.
His next delivery was a ball, but the third was a strike though the man had not moved his bat.