“I hope you can pitch all right Saturday,” went on Joe. He wanted very much to hint at the fact that he, too, might be in the game, but Sam was not a lad to invite confidences, especially after what had taken place. Joe liked comradeship. He liked the company of boys of his own age and he was just “hungry” to talk baseball. But, aside from Tom Davis, as yet he had no chums with whom he could gossip about the great pastime.
In Bentville he was looked up to as one of the nine, and, though the team was not as good a one as was the Silver Stars, still it was a team, and Joe was one of the principal players. Coming to a strange town, and being distinctly out of the game, made him feel like a “cat in a strange garret,” as he said afterward.
But with a grim tightening of his lips he made up his mind not to give way to gloomy thoughts, and he determined that he would be on the town team and one of the best players.
As the warning bell rang, Tom Davis came hurrying across the school campus.
“I called for you!” he shouted to Joe who, with a crowd of other lads, was going in the building, “but you’d gone.”
“Thanks,” replied Joe, grateful for the friendly spirit shown. “I’ll wait next time.” He liked Tom, and was glad to have him for a chum.
Joe thought lessons would never be finished that day, but the classes were finally dismissed and then, without waiting for Tom, though he thought this might be construed as rather unfriendly, our hero hastened off in the direction of the fairgrounds. There was a high wooden fence around this plot, and it gave Joe just the chance he wanted, for he was going to practice pitching, and he didn’t want any witnesses.
“I wish I had half a dozen balls,” he murmured as he went in through one of the gates which was unlocked. “I wouldn’t have to chase back and forth so often. But two will do for a while.”
He laid his books down on the grass, took out the horsehide spheres and, measuring a distance from the fence about equal to the space from the pitcher’s box to home plate, he began to pitch the balls.
With dull thuds the balls struck the fence, one after the other, and fell to the ground. Joe picked them up, took his place again in the imaginary box, and repeated the performance.